Professor Gandalf the Grey
by Time Lord Consultant
Summary: Gandalf the Grey, long before the events of the Hobbit, finds himself in a strange new world. He soon meets Dumbledore, and quickly earns a job. How did he get here? Why is he here? Was this the will of the Valar, or the will of evil? And how will he get back to the world he knows and loves? I seem to be on hiatus. Sorry.
1. Chapter 1

Gandalf the Grey meets England

It has been an exceptionally tiring day for the old wizard. Not only has he recently finished his long journey from one side of Middle Earth to another, but as he went to sleep on the bed of The Prancing Pony, he woke up, suddenly, on a strange bench, in some foreign, loud, foul smelling land. In fairness to this place, it was certainly colourful. Gandalf sat up, searching for his staff. It was right beside the bench, on the grass, which was damp with the early morning dew. He grumbled to himself, and shook of the water. He quickly heated his staff up a bit, so it would not be as cold. He then took a look at his surroundings. A quick glance told him he was in some city or town of men, but where, he could not even guess. The people wore strange garments, and there were noisy things going by, some larger than others. Another glance, and he saw some people step out of these things. Somewhere else, someone got in, and the thing went off. Gandalf reasoned that it must've been the common mode of transportation around this part of the world. They were frightfully quick; they went as a horse of Rohan at a gallop. There were large buildings of magnificent make, stretching into the sky. They seemed to be made mostly of glass. Gandalf was impressed by this as well. They were not of the level of the dwarves, or elves, or even the Númenorean at their peak, and certainly not of Valinor, and many of them were far colder seeming, but they were impressive none the less, considering the main component was glass. He turned his gaze back to the transportation. This seemed mostly metal. They were releasing a fume, which Gandalf guessed was a result of something inside it, for it certainly wasn't the cause of the speed of these strange contraptions. They were apparently also the cause of the noise. Then someone sped past on another strange contraption, one with two wheels only, and was considerably noisier. Then Gandalf, more confused than ever, turned his gaze to a nearby passer-by, humming a strange tune. He was a larger fellow than anyone else nearby, with a beard that stood out. He seemed an ideal person to talk to, and ask where he was. He stopped the man.

'Excuse, my dear fellow,' said Gandalf, slowly getting up. The man looked down to him. 'I don't suppose you could tell me where I am. I seem to have gotten terribly lost last night.'

The large man, though surprised and confused, obliged to tell him was in a place called "London". Gandalf was now even more confused. He asked where that was, and learnt it was in a place called "England". Gandalf, now more confused than someone his of age and knowledge should be, thanked him, and said perhaps he'll just find a library. He turned to leave, but was stopped by the giant fellow.

'Hang on now,' he began. 'I just need to know, are you a wizard, by any chance?'

Surprised, Gandalf considered this before answering. 'Well, yes, I suppose you could call me that.'

'And you don't know where on earth you are?' Gandalf nodded. 'Then I know who could help you,' exclaimed the man excitedly. 'Come with me,' the man told him, going past Gandalf. With nothing to lose, Gandalf followed him. At least he might get some answers.

'Now, what's yer name, by the way?' inquired the man, turning his head to Gandalf. Again, Gandalf considered this.

'I have many names, but you may call me Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey. And you are?' Gandalf asked him, turning his head now.

'Hagrid. Rubeus Hagrid. Where abouts are you from?' They turned down a street, and went down a flight of stairs, to a platform, where there was even more noise. Gandalf chuckled.

'Now, that is a long tale, that I think can wait for another time,' replied Gandalf. 'The better question, I should think, is where are we going?' he asked, now and then wincing, as large machines turn up, and leave after people get on. More strange transportation, Gandalf guessed. He desperately needed a library, where he could read in peace and quiet, and learn more about the strange world he has arrived in.

'Hogwarts,' replied Hagrid, eagerly. Gandalf looked at him in more confusion.

'Hogwarts?' he asked, slowly. Now it was Hagrid's turn to look at him confused.

'Now, don't tell me you never 'eard of Hogwarts. The greatest school of Witchcraft and Wizardry there is.'

Gandalf shook his head. 'No, never. This is all very strange and new to me, my friend. I'm afraid I don't know much of anything around here.'

Hagrid looked both amazed, and surprised. 'Then I suppose you've ne'er heard of Dumbledore either, then.'

'Dumbledore, no, I can't say I have.'

Hagrid stopped as they reached a pillar. He looked at Gandalf intensely. 'Are you _sure_ yer a wizard, Gandalf?' Gandalf looked back at him, intensely, and there was a flame in his eye.

'I said, you could call me that. The term wizard is a loose one, where I come from. Take me to this Dumbledore, and I will explain everything then.' There was an intensity in the way he told Hagrid this, and something in his voice that said he was telling the truth, that made Hagrid believe him. Hagrid conceded, and turned towards the brick pillar.

'Alright. If yer telling the truth, then I might as well take you with me. If not, then Dumbledore will find out, one way or another.' And with that, he stepped right into the brick pillar, vanishing! Startled, Gandalf nearly let out a yell, but kept control of himself. Slowly, he went through the pillar, and coming out on another platform, with Hagrid waiting for him, talking to a woman at a stall. Gandalf looked around, seeing people in all manner odd garments, with small animals, in cages, and boxes, which Gandalf suspected carried things for them. They carried all of this odd looking metal carriages, which they pushed. Just as he was looking around in confusion, Hagrid came up to him with a piece of paper. 'Come on, Gandalf, time to board our train.'

_So that's what those are called, _Gandalf thought._ Hmm, interesting. I shall have to do extensive research, once I get the chance. In any case, either I'm far into the future of Arda, or I'm not in Arda any longer. In both cases, I have to find a way back. _Then he turned, and went with Hagrid. Cautiously, he stepped on the train. He thought back to Valinor. Aüle would have enjoyed this place. Of course, Aüle would have improved it immensely, and it would be far more beautiful, with a natural touch, courtesy of Yavannah, but for what it's worth, the humans have done alright. Of course, Hagrid didn't seem entirely human, but he was friendly enough. They found their way to their seats, with Gandalf receiving more than a few odd looks. Sighing, they sat down.

After a few minutes of the trip had passed, Gandalf got curious. 'So, Hagrid,' he began, leaning forward on the table. 'What's your story? I noticed we were getting some odd looks; many were directed at me. Those I can understand. But some were directed towards you. Why is that?' Hagrid shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

'Well, you see,' he began awkwardly. 'My mother was a giant, and my father was a human, and giants don't have much of a good reputation.'

'Oh? And why is that, may I ask? My apologies, this world is all very new to me,' explained Gandalf at Hagrid's shocked look.

'Well, they 'ave a habit of destroying things, and people. They aren't the brightest of creatures, with a fondness for killing.' Hagrid explained this while looking embarrassed.

'Ah, I see. And people often hate and, or, fear giants?' asked Gandalf. Hagrid nodded. 'Now, what I am wondering is, what does Dumbledore have to do with this? You seemed very, how should I say, appalled when you learnt I didn't know who he is. Not something you'd expect from someone who is hated and feared by most people. How did he help you?'

Hagrid looked a bit startled at how Gandalf had figured all this out. But he still answered. 'I went to Hogwarts for three years. On my third year I was framed for some rather bad things, and I was expelled, and banished from practising magic. Dumbledore convinced the 'eadmaster to let me be the Gamekeeper. Dumbledore was the only one who believed I was innocent.'

'He sounds to be an amiable fellow. I shall be glad to meet him.' At that, Gandalf sat back in his seat, and the rest of the journey was in silence, as he went over the events in his head, trying to make sense of what has transpired.

When they had reached their stop, and exited the train, they entered a strange looking town, which Hagrid had dubbed 'Hogsmeade'. Gandalf wondered what else started with 'Hog'.

After searching for a while, they eventually found who Hagrid was apparently searching for. A man a little shorter than Gandalf, with long red robes, a strange looking hat, and long white hair and a similar beard. He reminded Gandalf an awful lot of himself.

'Dumbledore!' called Hagrid, getting the man's attention.

'Ah, Hagrid. I see you've finished the errands I've sent you on,' remarked Dumbledore. He wore pieces of metal with glass on them, and in his eyes was a glint of humour, and care, among other things. 'And who might this be?'

At this point Gandalf decided to step forth. 'I'm Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey,' he introduced himself. 'I've gotten terribly lost, and I'm told you could help me.'

'And what could I tell you that a map could not, may I ask?' He asked this not unkindly, but in a way that held authority. Of course, no mortal had authority higher than Gandalf, but he was impressed nonetheless. Gandalf looked grimly at the man.

'Because,' said Gandalf. 'I am of the opinion that I am not from this time. Or this world.'

At this, Dumbledore's eyebrows raised slightly. He raised his head as though was going to nod, but stopped, before slowly bringing it down. 'Follow me, then.' And with that, he turned and left for a nearby restaurant.

* * *

Inside the restaurant, they took their seats at corner table, to talk with some privacy. As soon as they ordered their drinks (Gandalf just had water, for he didn't know what anything was), they started talking.

'So,' started Dumbledore, leaning forward. 'Tell me your tale, my friend.'

Gandalf took out a long pipe, added some pipe weed, lit it – he shocked Dumbledore a tiny bit, as the fire was from his fingers – and began to smoke. He then recounted his tale as best he could, which did not include much. He added his thoughts about the situation, including why he thinks he is in another time and world completely. Dumbledore listened intently to Gandalf's reasoning. Gandalf believed that he was sent here to help in some way, or as a means to get him out of the way back in Middle Earth.

'Now tell me this,' said Dumbledore carefully. 'Why would you have been sent here to help us? Or why would you have been sent here to be out of the way in, uh, Middle Earth, was it?'

Gandalf sighed. Here was the part he most disliked. Explaining who he was. It was ever difficult, to those who do not know of the Maiar, or Ainur in general. And the people in this world certainly did not. And in any case, he had been under orders to not reveal himself as is possible. 'Very well,' he conceded. 'I will tell you. You may not believe, or you may. Whatever your choice, what I say is the absolute truth. This may take some time, but I will say what time allows.' And so Gandalf recounted his tale, from the Ainulindalë, to the War of Wrath, to the downfall of Sauron, and the Allegiance of Elves and Men, to his arrival, with the other four Istari. He explained what he was, and who he was. He was as brief as possible, and did not stop, save for a smoke of his pipe, and receiving his drink. At the end, it was sundown, and both Dumbledore and Hagrid were both dumbfounded, and at a loss for words. This was a somewhat new feeling for Dumbledore, who had not been at a loss for words in a long while. After many minutes, Dumbledore spoke up.

'This is all very incredible,' he began at length. 'Is there any way to prove this?' Gandalf shook his head.

'Not easily,' he stated. 'And certainly not in here.' He sighed and drank some of his water. The look Dumbledore shared with Hagrid was not lost on him, however, but he put it aside.

'Well, I can think of one way.' Dumbledore produced a stick from his robes, and pointed it at Gandalf. Despite its appearance, Gandalf sensed some measure of power in it. 'Legilimens,' he whispered. Gandalf felt something brush against the defences of his mind. As if something was banging at a door, demanding to enter. Gandalf quickly realised that it was Dumbledore, trying to gain access to his mind. He quickly pushed him out, with enough force to make Dumbledore wince.

'I would _not_ do that if I were you, young man.' Something flashed in Gandalf's eyes that made Dumbledore pause. This man's defences were formidable. But he had to know the truth.

'I suppose you wouldn't mind giving me access to your memories? To verify your story.' Dumbledore was wary of this man. Not everyone calls him young, and not everyone has defences as formidable as his. And something tells him that this man could destroy him with a wave of his hand, if he so fancied, even if his story was false.

The light in Gandalf's eyes faded, slowly. He considered for a moment. At last he spoke, slowly. 'I will grant you access to certain memories. But I must warn you: do not, under any circumstance, go beyond the memories I say you can. If you do, the consequences will be terrible.' With that, Gandalf brought forth the necessary memories, and opened his mind, partially, and nodded his assent. Dumbledore once again cast the spell, and entered the mind of Gandalf the Grey.

He started off with the events that brought him here. Everything was exactly as was told. Then he went to the memories that came before these events. What he saw was, in a word, indescribable. There was the fall of Sauron, the Allegiance of Men and Elves, yes, but even greater than that was the War of Wrath. Gods and Elves fighting, continents sinking, mountains crumbling! But even the magnitude of that war paled in comparison to what came next. Or before that, rather. The Ainulindalë. The song that started it all. The beginning of the universe. It was brief, barely a glimpse. But it was more than enough for Dumbledore. He withdrew from Gandalf's mind.

'Very well, Gandalf. I believe you now. I will help you.'

Gandalf set back in his seat. 'I'm very glad.'

'But you present a particular problem. Namely, you seem to be from a separate time and place. It will require much study. It will take a very long time. You will need a place to stay, and money to buy food.' A glint came into Dumbledore's eyes. Gandalf recognised it immediately.

'If you want me to do something for you, say it and be done with it!' commanded Gandalf. He has had a long day, and had no time for these pointless manoeuvring. Dumbledore bowed his slightly.

'Of course. My apologies. I simply mean to say you will need a job, and that I have one available for you that will rather easy for you, I think .'

At this at this, Gandalf raised an eyebrow. 'Oh?' he asked, indicating to Dumbledore to go on.

'I want you to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.' Now this made Gandalf pause.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Gandalf could hardly believe his ears! Teaching! Teaching what? Magic? Witchcraft and wizardry? Madness! He had heard Dumbledore cast the spell which he used to try and enter Gandalf's mind. He did not recognize the word. It did not even sound similar to any spell he knows, and he knows them all. So how could possibly teach anyone any magic in this world?

'Teach? I'm afraid I can't do that, Dumbledore. I do not know much of this world, and it seems to have magic that is far more different to what is called magic in my world. I won't be able to teach very much.'

Dumbledore smiled slightly. 'Ah,' said Dumbledore. 'I thought we might meet this stumbling block. Fortunately, we have a month and a half before school starts. Plenty of time for you to learn the magic of our world.'

Gandalf thought this over. Putting his head on his hands, he sighed. On the one hand, he disliked staying in one place. He enjoyed moving about. On the other, as a teacher, he would have ample time to learn about this world, and why he was here. And he may very well require money. He sighed again, and lifted up his head. 'Very well,' exclaimed Gandalf. 'I concede. I shall teach your students, in one and a half months' time.' At this, Dumbledore smiled brightly.

'Excellent!' He reached into his robe once more, and this time pulled out a small bag, probably carrying some coins. 'This will serve as a starting payment. It should be enough to buy yourself a wand, and at least three books.' He rummaged through his cloaks once more. He brought out his hand and held some strange gold coins. 'These will serve you to have a place at an inn. Now, this has been very interesting, and incredibly helpful, but I must now go. But before I do, I will tell you this. At the end of the wait, there will be a test for you. I will send you instructions a week before the end. In the meantime, I suggest you learn what you can. Now, goodbye, my new friend.' And with that, he finished his drink in a quick gulp, and left, leaving Gandalf with Hagrid to show him around.

'Well,' huffed Gandalf, after a long drawn breath of his pipe. 'That was decided quickly. Is he always so hasty?' He looked at Hagrid quizzically, still coming to terms with the events that had just transpired. Things were going extremely fast, and although he was good at fast moving events, he usually orchestrated them, and knew how they played out. He wanted them to go fast. He was also usually less tired. This? This was something new entirely. Wizards by the dozen, enough for there to be schools for them; strange vehicles of an assortment of hues and shapes; towers of glass! But now, strangest of all, he, Gandalf the Grey, the Grey Pilgrim, the Wandering Wizard, never staying in one spot for long, has all of a sudden agreed to teach a bunch of strange students, strange magic, in a strange school, in some strange world. For the first time in millennia, Gandalf did not know where to go, or what to do.

'Oh, sometimes,' commented Hagrid, finishing his drink. 'Now, I think we best get you a wand of sorts. Finish yer drink, n' we'll head off.' Wearily, Gandalf gulped down the last of his drink, and he stood up, leaning on his staff. For a moment, the weight of the years was upon him. Then he straightened himself, and the years seemed to fall away.

'Very well, then. Let us be off then.' With that, Gandalf picked up his hat, returned it to his head, and left, with Hagrid following after. 'Now,' he started, turning to Hagrid when they were outside, with Hagrid leading the way. 'Where do we get one of these 'wands', and more importantly, why do I need one?'

Hagrid looked at Gandalf, trying to remind himself that he was from a different world. 'Well, wands are kinda like conduits for magic. They also 'ave a good deal of magical energy in 'emselves. 'Course, an accomplished witch or wizard can do wandless magic, but that's far more difficult. Best stick to wand magic for now. As to where to get one, why from the best wand shop ever! Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. Best wands on the planet.' As Hagrid continued to boast Ollivanders skill, Gandalf took notice of his surroundings. It was nothing like what he had seen previously. There were no towers of glass stretching into the sky, no metal carriages. There was no brightness to it, no variation in colour. And the buildings were all made of wood. Wood! When they could be using rock and metal and glass all they wanted! And they chose wood? It was less like the Khazad-dûm seeming city that he had recently been in and more like the village Bree! In fact, they seemed nearly identical! Could they not even make it fair like the realms of elves? They have more than enough means! Inwardly, he sighed, and looked around some more. He came to realise that there were many odd looking creatures walking about. They wore similar garments to the humans. He assumed they must be some sort of creature with human like intelligence. There was even a strange being that seemed half man, half horse. Gandalf was too tired to be surprised at the moment, but he made a note to be surprised later. For now, he had to focus on the shop Hagrid had just entered. It had its title in gold letters, which were peeling in places. His disappointment peaked. People who can apparently use magic to accomplish almost anything should be able to do better than this.

As he entered the shop, he felt a strange sensation come over him. There was a host of power in this room. Even a certain sentience. Not unlike the wand Dumbledore had used earlier. But this power was not of a singular entity, and rather many individual powers in a single area. He found himself nearly amazed at the interior. It was filled with rows of boxes, stretching to the roof, which was deceptively high. It all looked rather messy, over all; papers were littered everywhere. But his attention was brought to an old man, who was coming out from the back. He seemed weary with age, and had white hair. He wore some sort of thin scarf, which went down to his waist. He wore rumpled, old seeming clothes, which seemed as though they had never been cleaned. But there was something in his pale, silvery eyes, something that held knowledge, and some curiosity, and a good deal of weariness. The old man, who Gandalf assumed to be Ollivander, had turned his attention to them. He addressed Hagrid.

'Ah, Rubeus,' he exclaimed. 'What brings you here? I haven't seen you in quite some time.'

'Hello, Ollivander,' Hagrid replied. 'I'm just helping Gandalf 'ere find his way round town. Needs himself a new wand.' At that, Ollivanders eyes lit up. It would seem that this was a passion for the old man.

'Ahh. Excellent. Very well then.' With that, he stepped out from behind his desk, holding some foreign object in his hand.

'I should tell you,' Gandalf stopped him before he got closer. He felt he had to explain something. 'I am not so much in need of a _new_ wand, so much as a first wand. I have never had a wand before, nor have I ever required one.' At that announcement, Ollivanders brow furrowed in confusion.

'Never required one? What kind of wizard are? Rubeus, are you certain you've brought a wizard here?' he turned to Hagrid, confused. Hagrid shrugged.

'Dumbledore seems to think so.'

Gandalf felt the urge to speak up, his temper beginning to rise. 'I assure you, I am quite capable of wielding the magic of this world. I have simply never had to before. Now if you please, I am tired, and am in need of a wand! I have the money with me. Will you sell one to me today or not!?'

Ollivander stepped back. He raised his hands. 'Alright, alright, no need to get angry. I have just never met a wizard who has never needed a wand. Oh well then. At least your first one will be a fine one. Wands made here are the finest kind.' He stepped forward and used the object in his hand (which Gandalf would later learn is a magic measuring tape) to make all sorts of measurements. At last, he stopped. Gandalf was curious as to why they were necessary, but was in no mood to ask questions. Ollivander had gone back behind his counter, and was searching through one of the shelves. He pulled a box out.

Before he could say anything, Hagrid had mentioned that he would step outside, and wait for them to finish.

'Now, this wand is one made of Acacia wood, with a dragon heartstring. A very subtle wood, but with a powerful core. Here, take it. I think it will make a good match.'

Tentatively, Gandalf reached for the stick. However, it began to vibrate. He stared at it for a second, wondering if this was common. He then grasped it. The wand shook violently in his hand, but he did not release it. He took this as a sign to let go of it, however. He carefully put it back in its box, and moved his hand away from it. As he did, it calmed down. He looked at Ollivander.

'Hmm. So, not that one then.' Ollivander closed the box, and returned it to its place, and searched for another one. He picked out one, and brought it over. It was made with apple wood, and held a unicorn hair. 'Try this one,' he told Gandalf, opening it. However, he had the sensation that this one would not work. It stayed where it was, still, however, and did not vibrate. This seemed to Gandalf to be a good sign. But he could not shake the uneasy feeling that it was not meant to be his. 'Well, go on then. Give it a wave,' Ollivander hurried. Gandalf did, and a row of boxes flung out of their place. Papers were scattered everywhere. Gandalf looked at Ollivander quizzically.

'Sorry about that,' he apologised. 'But was that meant to occur.' Ollivander shook his head.

'No,' he replied. 'It would seem that this is not the wand for you either. It's said that the wand chooses the wizard, you know.' At this remark, Gandalf grew suspicious. He knew of only one other seemingly inanimate object that had a mind of its own, and it was not a very good thing. Ollivander had gone further back, to get another of the wands. 

'These wands are alive, are they?' he called after the man. He would have to get an answer soon. If these things could exert any control over his mind, he would have to be very cautious. Ollivander called back.

'Well, in a sense, I suppose. They have a certain loyalty, and often times a personality. But they can't think like you and I, if that's what you're asking.' He returned with another box. Gandalf, somewhat relieved, relaxed.

'Hmm, good. Yes, very good,' he commented. 'Now, what of this one?'

'Ah!' exclaimed Ollivander. 'This one is made with beech wood, and dragon heartstring.' He watched as Gandalf picked it up. Gandalf once more gave it a cautious wave. More papers flew everywhere. Gandalf sighed, and put it back. 'Most curious,' whispered Ollivander, more to himself than to Gandalf. He took it back, and returned with another one, which also failed. A dozen wands later, and Gandalf was becoming more and more irritated. 'You do present an interesting case, Gandalf,' commented Ollivander. 'I have one more idea. I have no idea if it will work, as I came up with it on a whim, but now that I think of it, it might just work.' He disappeared to the back of the room, and a few minutes later came back with another wand case. 'This one,' he whispered, not yet opening the box, 'is made up of a number of different wand woods. It has acacia, apple, beech, black walnut, cedar, cherry, elder, uh, maple, pine, red oak, some sycamore, vine, and yew. I had tried to fit in as many woods as possible. Many of these are my personal favourites. It has a dragon heartstring and a unicorn hair. I hope this works. I've had it for a few weeks now.' He opened the case, slowly. Gandalf frowned. There something rather different about this wand. It seemed to call to him. It almost seemed to pull itself _towards_ him! Gandalf slowly moved forward. He took it and held it up right.

As soon as he did, a bright light shone around him. It soon died down. He looked at Ollivander. 'I suppose this the right one, then?' Ollivander nodded eagerly.

'Yes, oh yes indeed. Oh, you shall do great things, I predict. Many great things, Gandalf.' Ollivander rubbed his hands together excitedly, grinning. Gandalf smiled.

'Very well then. I will take my leave. Here are the coins you will need, I suspect. Thank you very much, Ollivander.' He put the wand in one of his inner pockets, and turned to leave.

'You are most welcome, good Gandalf. Most welcome indeed,' Ollivander replied after he had left.

Gandalf found Hagrid waiting outside the building, patiently. 'Ah, Gandalf,' he greeted warmly. 'Got yer wand?' Hagrid asked earnestly. Gandalf smiled at him.

'Yes, I quite think I did. Sorry to keep you waiting,' Gandalf apologised. 'Where to now? The library, I suppose.' They were walking, gaining ever more curious glances.

'No worries, and a bookshop, actually. Now, when we get there, I'll 'ave to leave you. You can find yer way back to the inn, can't you?' Gandalf nodded at the tall half giant. After a few minutes of silent, weary walking – at least weary for Gandalf – they arrived at the library. Hagrid turned to Gandalf. 'Right then, Gandalf, I'll be on my way.' He smiled at Gandalf.

Gandalf turned to Hagrid, and smiled as well. 'Fare well, my friend. I hope to see you soon.' At that, without further delay, he entered the store.

At first, Gandalf thought he was at one of the corners of the Elves libraries. _Impressive,_ Gandalf thought to himself. He wandered forward. Not sure where to go, he went to whoever looked to be the staff. 'Excuse me, would you mind telling me where the…' Gandalf's memory faltered for a moment, before it came to him again. 'Defence against the Dark Arts books are?' He was pointed in the correct direction, and soon came to the row of books he was interested in. The bookstore was a confusing one, to say the least. Books were floating all around the place. It was a very large place, too. It took him several minutes to find his way. After looking through the books he came to the conclusion that this day would be a very long one indeed. He sighed, suddenly aware of how tired he was, and how much more than usual he was leaning on his staff.

After what may have been an hour of searching through the books, trying to find the ones that would be most useful, Gandalf finally came across two extremely thick books. One seemed to be a compilation of spells, curses, and so forth, and the other a compilation of dangerous creatures, and how to defend against them. He took them over to the counter, and bought them; he left immediately to go to the inn he would be staying at.

Gandalf surveyed his new, and hopefully temporary living quarters. It was a simple, dull seeming wood room, with a simple, yet still large bed in the corner. He was disappointed. But it would have to do. It had been a long time since he had stayed in one place for very long. Not since Valinor. As one of the Istari who had been sent to aid Middle-Earth in its war against the Enemy Sauron, Gandalf had been ever on the move, weaving a very fine web of contacts, gaining the trust of the leaders of Middle-Earth; the Kings of Men, the Lords of the Elves, and the Kings of the Dwarves. He had made himself known to the Hobbits, although his friendship with them was tenuous, and made good friends amongst the Ent's. He had become friends with Aragorn the Ranger, and the Dúnedain were his close allies. He had walked through all of Middle-Earth, learning every language, learning every hidden pathway. And now, he was here. In this foreign land, with strange people, wearing strange garments, and strange magic, that he was going to teach to their children. Could one imagine that! Teaching magic to children. But this was not what Men called magic. What Men called magic back in his home was far more different. It was far… deeper. What Men called the magic of the Wizards was simply a part of their beings; it was an extension of their will. Even as they were, cloaked, and restrained, the Istari held greater power than any other creature in Middle-Earth, save Sauron himself. But here? Here, magic seemed to be far more… mundane. Bright and flashy. More akin to his fireworks. Cheap tricks. However, he had to admit, having read a little in the bookstore, the magic did seem— effective, and varied, if lacking in all other areas.

Gandalf sighed once more. The sun was setting. He needed rest. He was weary, like he had not been in nearly an age. He placed his hat on his staff, which he leaned against the wall, near his bed. He slowly lowered himself onto the bed. As he drifted off, it suddenly occurred to him that he had not eaten. He would be hungry tomorrow indeed.

Morning came, sooner than he wished. He was correct. He felt a pang of hunger. Groaning, he picked up his staff, and set of down stair, where breakfast would be served. Having already seen the drinks menu, he feared what would be served for breakfast. _Perhaps they have the same as in Bree,_ he thought, hopeful. _It would be most helpful if they had coffee, or tea._ The inn's pub was full again, and very smoky. It again reminded him of Bree, and the Prancing Pony. He thought of Belladonna Took, and her son, young and tiny, Bilbo. Bilbo, one of the few Hobbits that yearned for adventure. What might happen now, without him being there? To all those happy, peaceful, quiet little Hobbits? Should Sauron return in his absence, and the forces of Mordor arise once more? Gandalf cast such thoughts from his mind. It would not do to dwell on them. Instead, he went to the counter.

'Hello,' he said, getting the barmaids attention. 'You don't happen to sell coffee, or tea here do you?' The barmaid looked at him, clearly confused. Gandalf's hopes fell swiftly.

'Isn't coffee one of those muggles drinks?' asked the barmaid. 'And uh, no, no tea, sorry.'

'Hmm. I suppose coffee would be,' muttered Gandalf, gloomily. He sighed again, and looked up. 'I don't suppose you have something similar to coffee then? Something to keep me awake?' He looked at the barmaid, who was trying to hide her confusion.

'Uh, sure,' she answered. She turned, but stopped, remembering her professionalism. 'Is there anything else, sir?'

Gandalf thought for a few seconds. 'A sandwich, perhaps,' said finally. 'You do have those, don't you?' Gandalf asked, perhaps a bit hastily. The barmaid looked at him, again curious.

'Sure thing,' she said, and left to prepare them.

Gandalf put his head down and sighed once more. How had this happened? What was his purpose here? Who sent him here? This certainly did not feel as though he was in the future, as he couldn't remember it from the Ainulindalë. However, he remembered, in a conversation with Manwë, the Valar who was the closest in thought to Ilúvatar, that although they focused on Arda, and Eä, their world was not the only one. Indeed, there were many millions, but none of them were quite as the one they resided in. When Gandalf asked why they couldn't visit those Earths, Manwë replied that it was not the will of Eru, and that Eru had put in place boundaries, so that none may try to enter the other worlds. Manwë told Gandalf that each world had their own stories, which had to follow their own path, set by Eru, uninterrupted. After this, Gandalf had given little thought to it, although he had talked to Vairë, who weaved the Web of Time, who confirmed this fact, although she said not many among the Maiar knew this. And thus, Gandalf came to the conclusion that he was definitely in a different world. Now all he had to figure out was _how and why_ he got here.

At this point, the barmaid came back to him, with a sandwich on a plate, and a mug of some suspicious seeming liquid Gandalf assumed was like coffee. 'Here you are,' said the barmaid. Gandalf thanked her, and moved to leave, but she stopped him. 'If you don't mind my asking, sir,' she began nervously. 'Where might you be from? Not knowing any wizard drink, only muggle ones?' Gandalf looked down, thinking. At last he answered.

'A very long way away.' He left it at that, and turned to one of the corner table at the far back, leaving an even more confused barmaid.

As Gandalf ate, he hardly noticed the taste of the sandwich, which was quite good. His mind was on other things. He did not know the magic of the world, so he would have to study it intensely. It fortunate then that he was a fast learner, and had a better memory than most. And although he was curious about the rest of the world he was in, he had to prioritize learning magic first. He determined that by the end of the month, and the first week after that, he would be able to teach at all levels, even the most advanced or most basic of levels. Then the final week would be dedicated to other studies. At that thought, he finished his breakfast. He took his drink, which had cooled down some, and drank it. It felt warm, and inside him it was as though he was properly waking up. _An excellent drink. Perhaps their use of magic is not entirely wasted,_ Gandalf thought to himself, and dwelled on it no more.

Finishing his drink, he went up to his room, and opened one of his books, which dealt with fighting dark creatures. Gandalf found these dark creatures almost as amusing as the seriousness the book talked about them. If these were the most dangerous creatures in this world, Gandalf foresaw no problems.

By the beginning of noon, Gandalf had learnt of and memorised all the dark creatures in the book, and how to fight them with the magic of this world. Gandalf put the book down, slightly disappointed at how quickly he had finished it. However, it gave him the opportunity to visit the local library, which he did right away, ignoring lunch. Upon arriving, he asked for directions to books regarding dark creatures. He found his way there, and picking out a few books that seemed interesting, sat and read for hours, until nightfall. He left, and returned to the inn for dinner. He started conversing with the barmaid, apologising for his behaviour this morning. And so, he fell into a habit. He woke up, had breakfast, read a book till midday, went to the library – which of course changed when he ran out of books, which was on day four, at which point he just went to the library at the start of the day –, read some more, then returned and had dinner. This pattern would be broken every-so-often, when he would make conversation with someone, often learning something, and occasionally making a friend, as he did with the barmaid, who he found was a useful source of information. This was apparently a very popular inn, and many people came here to discuss things, including business. Gandalf learnt many a useful thing, including some talk of an Order meeting with Dumbledore. Gandalf asked the barmaid, whose name was Lily, what an Order meeting was, but she had no idea. Gandalf made a note to bring it up with Dumbledore.

By the end of the week, Gandalf had become exceptionally knowledgeable about dark creatures and combating them. However, he was yet to become proficient in actually using magic. However, he soon found that he was quite adept in that area too. After asking if there was a place nearby were he could practice magic, he was directed to a quite alley, where he would practice every day, adding a new rhythm to his schedule, which was to practice at midday for a number of hours, then return to the library, and then back to the inn for dinner. By the end of the second week, Gandalf was quite knowledgeable and skilled with offensive and defensive spells. By the end of the month, Gandalf had read through most of the books in that section of the library, and a good deal of other sections, deeming it wise to be well versed in at least basic spells and charms, and practiced most of the spells, eventually drawing a crowd.

It all started during the middle of the third week, when this one man decided to ask him why he was practicing magic in this alley. Gandalf explained in the briefest terms possible why he was doing what he was doing, and the man nodded his head, and sat on a nearby stool, which happened to be there. The man was impressed, even accusing Gandalf of lying about being new to magic, which he quickly learned was a mistake. The next day, as Gandalf was practicing, the man returned, but with a friend. The friend, John, asked to spar with Gandalf. Surprised, Gandalf agreed, but informed him that he wasn't yet proficient with this worlds healing spells. John told him not to worry about it. They bowed, and began their duel.

It ended a few minutes later, with Gandalf invading Johns mind, but quickly leaving and casting a spell to freeze his opponent in place. He then snatched the wand out of his hand. Gandalf knelt before his fallen opponent, and laid a hand over his head. Gandalf worked to counteract his spell, eventually succeeding. John woke with a jolt. He shivered in place.

'Are you well?' Gandalf asked, looking at John concerned. John nodded.

'Bloody hell mate,' he coughed, looking up at Gandalf. 'Nicely done. Legilimens and then Petrificus Totalus? Distracting me by invading my mind and then freezing me? Never even saw it coming! Blimey!' He stood up, with some help from Gandalf.

'Well then,' began Gandalf with a twinkle in his eye. 'I think I win. Here's your wand.' Gandalf produced his wand from his robes pocket, handing it to a still amazed John, who thanked him.

'Hey, as long as your practicing magic, why not earn a bit of money out of it?' asked Bernie, the fellow that had introduced John to Gandalf. 'People could come round and pay to duel you, see if they could beat you.' Gandalf considered this idea. He was in want of some new books. At last Gandalf agreed.

'Very well,' he sighed at last. He figured such an idea wouldn't last long anyway. He shrugged, and told them he'd be off, and it would be up to them to see this plan of theirs into fruition.

By the end of the month, Gandalf had attracted a spectacular crowd. Every day, he duelled no less than four people, and almost always winning. Occasionally he fought against two people at once. His losses occurred mainly during these duels, though they were few and far between. However, whenever he won, he would always give out advice. Not just pointers as to how to duel better, but also advice as to their everyday lives, as well. He became well known for his skills as much as his wisdom, and eventually, people came to him for his wisdom as much as to duel him. People were outraged and disappointed when he explained to them he would no longer be duelling at the end of the first week after the month had ended, in order to pursue his other studies.

And so, on his final week of studying, he decided to pay a visit to the rest of the world. He had once been paid a visit by Hagrid, who was checking up on him. He had, once Gandalf had asked, explained that magic users and muggles did not get along very well, as magic interfered with modern technology, and there was a bad history between them. Of course, since muggles had forgotten the existence of witches and wizards, Gandalf reasoned this was a chance to create relationships afresh. They debated this for a while, with Gandalf eventually ending it as calmly as he could manage. As soon as Hagrid was out of hearing range, Gandalf muttered about the foolishness of these mortals, and how it's such division that causes wars.

He then, at the start of the final week, set out, going on the train to London. He then left for the library. He spent the week there, gathering knowledge chiefly on transportation. He was most impressed by the creation planes. He imagined that Manwë and Aüle would be most impressed by them, and would seek to improve them tenfold, should they imagine them. He decided he would have to bring it up with Manwë and Aüle when he next could. He also learnt of their food, and of their buildings, and of their flora and fauna, which he found immensely fascinating as well. When he wasn't at the library, he strolled through a nearby forest, talking to all the creatures he could find, even learning some new languages. He found it peaceful. He missed doing such things; talking to animals, researching, gaining knowledge for the sake of knowledge, and not to defeat some great evil.

Alas, the week ended too soon for Gandalf, and he found himself staring at a letter on the final Friday morning.

_Dear Gandalf,_

_I hear you are doing well, and that your practices are coming along excellently. I apologise that I am unable to meet you in person. However, the time for practice is over. You are to follow Therapon here. He will guide you to a large field, whereupon –_ Gandalf chuckled at that –_ you are to duel a wizard of my own choosing – one of my teachers – to see if you are ready._

_Regards,_

_Albus Dumbledore._

Gandalf folded the letter up, and put it aside. He looked at the owl. 'And I suppose your Therapon, then?' he asked the owl, who hooted. 'Very well then, off we go.' Gandalf grabbed his hat, wand, and staff. The owl flew out the window. Gandalf rushed down stairs. Lily, who had gotten used to his schedule, had put aside a plate of sandwich, alongside his favourite morning drink. He downed the drink quickly, and took the sandwich. He reached out with his mind, searching for Lily's. When he did, he thanked her, and explained quickly why he couldn't stay. She then congratulated him, and he left, breakfast in hand. He found Therapon waiting for him. 'Well then, show me the way, good owl,' he commanded the owl, who then flew off, with Gandalf hastily following.

Half an hour of fast walking later, Gandalf arrived at the field, where Dumbledore, and some others, were waiting for him. Upon his arrival, they turned to him.

'Ah, Dumbledore,' called Gandalf. He observed the other two. One was a sullen, sour-faced pale man in black robes, with oily black hair. The other was a tall, thin lady who looked ever so slightly cross, although not on purpose.

'Ahh, Gandalf. Ready for your test?' asked Dumbledore. Gandalf nodded. 'Then let introduce you to Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall. Minerva will be making sure your wand is in good order, and that you know the necessary spells. Severus will be conducting the actual duel.'

'A pleasure to make your acquaintance,' said Gandalf, smiling. He shook the hand of McGonagall, and the hand of Snape, although he was a little more hesitant. In fact, if it weren't for Narya, Gandalf suspected he wouldn't have shaken hands at all. Afterwards, McGonagall requested his wand.

She peered at it for a while, then cast a spell. 'Glacius,' she said, simply. Gandalf recognised it as a freezing spell. It froze a patch of grass nearby. 'Hmm. Well, everything seems in order here, Mr Gandalf. Now, if you would mind running through a few simple spells for me.' She handed Gandalf his wand back.

'Just Gandalf will do, Miss McGonagall,' Gandalf corrected her. McGonagall narrowed her eyes.

'Very well,' she agreed. 'But until further notice, it's Professor McGonagall, not _Miss_ McGonagall,' she demanded.

'Of course,' said Gandalf calmly, bowing his head in acknowledgment.

'Good,' stated McGonagall. 'Now,' she said as she brought a feather out of her robes. 'Levitate this for me.' And Gandalf did. For about ten minutes he performed simple spells for her, increasing in difficulty. At the end of the ten minutes, she agreed that he knew enough.

'Excellent,' remarked Dumbledore. 'Now, Gandalf, Snape, if you would mind preparing for your duel.' Dumbledore and McGonagall moved away from the two wizards. 'Gandalf,' called Dumbledore. 'Perhaps you could do without the use of your staff, for the moment.' Gandalf realised it wasn't a question, but a demand. Gandalf obliged, walking over and planting the staff next to Dumbledore, upright. He then marched back to Snape, and pulled out his wand. Snape looked at him disdainfully. 'Begin whenever you want,' Dumbledore told them, smiling.

Snape bowed at Gandalf, keeping eye contact all the while. Gandalf bowed in turn, also keeping his eyes on Snape. They rose, and got into duelling positions. Without warning, Snape fired off a spell at Gandalf.

'Petrificus!' he exclaimed, flourishing his wand.

'Protegao!' countered Gandalf, his voice deep, and commanding. He stood up, and seemed to grow. Snape seemed to shrink. 'Incendio!' He yelled. A burst of flame shot forth from his wand, but he did not aim at Snape. Rather, he set fire to the grass around him. Thrice more he cast the spell, boxing Severus in. However, Snape was already casting a spell to get rid of the flames. But no matter how quick Snape was, Gandalf was quicker. 'Lumos Solem!' A bright flash of light erupted from the tip of his wand, accompanied by a loud bang like thunder, courtesy of Gandalf's need for a complete effect, and a plan to disorientate Snape. Severus stumbled back, his hands shielding his eyes. Deafened, he didn't hear Gandalf cast a final spell. 'Immobulus,' said Gandalf, calmly. Snape stiffened. 'Expelliarmus.' Snape's wand flew from his hand, into Gandalf's outstretched hand. 'Accio,' muttered Gandalf, and he pulled Snape from the fires.

Somewhat dumbfounded, Dumbledore and McGonagall looked at Gandalf, who had seemed to return to his original size. Dumbledore turned to Minerva. 'Well, Minerva, do you think he should have the job?' asked Dumbledore. McGonagall nodded eagerly.

'Oh yes, Albus. I rather think he should.'

Gandalf neared them. A couple metres before them, he stopped, releasing his grip on the frozen Potions Master. 'Well,' he started to ask. 'Do I have the position?'

'I rather think you do,' Dumbledore smiled. 'Professor Gandalf the Grey.' At that, Gandalf smiled heartily. 'Now, I don't suppose you could…' he motioned to the still frozen Snape.

'Ah, of course.' Gandalf kneeled over the frozen body, and laid his hand on his forehead. A few moments later, Snape jerked up, gasping. He looked at Gandalf, something akin to fear in his eyes. 'Are you well?' Gandalf asked Snape. Snape nodded. 'Then here you are,' said Gandalf cheerfully, handing over the other combatants' wand.

'Hmm.' Snape snatched it out of Gandalf's hand, and got up, leaving, 'Albus, if you don't mind, I have to go prepare some notes for my classes.'

'Of course, Severus,' obliged Dumbledore. There was a twinkle in his eyes, and if Snape noticed it, he certainly didn't show it. The three of them watched the foul-tempered professor storm off for a while, then turned back to each other. 'Now, Professor Gandalf,' began the Headmaster, that twinkle ever in his eye. 'Perhaps it would be wise for us to head over to Hogwarts, and discuss business there.'

'Perhaps,' replied Gandalf, smiling.

They then turned, and followed in the direction of Snape. However, much to Gandalf's surprise they stopped by three broomsticks. Dumbledore turned to Gandalf, the twinkle in his eye working overtime. 'Have you ever ridden a broom, Gandalf.'

* * *

Thank you all for waiting so patiently. I hope this one is good, and not too hasty, and not too long. I should tell you that this is my first ever fanfic, and my knowledge of Harry Potter pales in comparison to my knowledge of Lord of the Rings, and other of Tolkien's works. I'll do my best, but if I get something wrong, please do tell me. Also, I'll try to post sooner next time, but I have a habit of procrastination, and school.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

So, this is where Gandalf the Grey has sunken to. Flying on cleaning equipment. Surely, the wizards of this world could come up with something more imaginative. According to Dumbledore, this was the traditional method of travel. There were occasional flying cars, yes, but they were far less popular. Despite being able to carry more, and being safer. Gandalf could not, at first, comprehend why, of all things one could fly with, these people chose brooms! It was certainly not so they could keep everything tidy, going by their rooms. Gandalf had asked Dumbledore, when they were on the ground, why they would be flying using brooms, of all things. Dumbledore had explained to him that, some thousands of years ago, wizards and witches decided that they needed a means of flight that was unobtrusive. And thus, they came up with brooms. Despite this logic, Gandalf still thought it somewhat ridiculous. Surely they could come up with something more dignified. Did they not claim to be superior to those who could not use magic? Not that Gandalf believed that to be so, but he still felt that those who claim to be superior should at least try and appear to be superior, even though they aren't.

Gandalf had been confused, at first. And when they had explained, his confusion turned to indignity. 'A broom?' he asked. He took one and stared at it for a while. He could see the enchantments weaved about it; there were spells that were designed to grant it flight. He looked again at Dumbledore, who was smiling. 'Is this really how you travel?'

'Of course.' Dumbledore attempted to hide his smile, failing spectacularly. 'Now, don't tell me you're afraid of a bit of flying, Professor Gandalf. You won't get very far if you won't fly.'

Gandalf shook his head. 'Flying? Of course not.' He held up the broom. 'However, I can hardly say that I would place my trust on a piece of cleaning equipment. I know it has enchantments and all, but it still isn't enough to warrant my comfort.' He put the broom down, carefully. 'I think I'll walk.' He smiled. At this, Dumbledore shook his head.

'I'm afraid that that won't do,' he told Gandalf. Beside him, McGonagall's shoulders were shaking, ever so slightly, with suppressed mirth. Gandalf felt slightly shocked at this. He had thought her sterner than this. But then again, many others in Middle-Earth thought he was very stern. He was, when he needed to be, but not always. Dumbledore continued. 'Hogwarts is far. Flying would get there much quicker.'

'We can talk whilst we walk,' Gandalf retorted.

Dumbledore appeared to consider this. 'Hmm. True. But there are papers in my office, which need to be signed by you. The sooner that is done, the better. We can get you a room.' Gandalf opened his mouth, but paused. He considered this for a moment. He would like to have a new room, where he wasn't kept awake at night due to loud noises at pub down below. He sighed, and bowed his head.

'Very well,' said Gandalf. 'How do we fly on them?'

* * *

A few moments later, Gandalf was flying, clutching the broom with much of his strength, trying not to show his fear, and making sure not to break the easily breakable looking broom. To his great relief, the school soon came into sight. The broom ride was smooth, but still somewhat uncomfortable. A few moments later, they had landed, although to Gandalf, it had seemed to be at least half an hour. Once certain that they had stopped, Gandalf got off, a little hastily. He looked to where McGonagall had landed, and concluded that she was concealing a great deal of laughter. Gandalf looked away, slightly embarrassed. He turned his attention to the giant castle. Nothing impressive, on its own. Gandalf had of course seen far more visually impressive. The Halls of Rohan, Minas Tirith, the halls of the Elves. As far as castles went, it didn't really stand up. However, what made it slightly more impressive was the magic that was weaved into the castle. It was riddled with spells, and charms, and enchantments of all sorts; the very bricks had numerous spells. It felt as though it had been here for a long time, which of course, it had, and it bore great tragedies and sorrow in it. It seemed to hold great anger, and rivalry. However, at the same time, Gandalf detected hope, and exuberance. There was bravery, and loyalty, and courage. He felt passion, and peacefulness, and an immense love, for all things, big and small, emanating from the large castle. He sensed curiosity, wisdom, and intelligence – for which he was very glad for – within the castle. He could see there was ambition, too. A desire to go beyond, to do greater things that had been done before. Gandalf smiled. _Perhaps,_ Gandalf thought to himself, _this might be better than I feared._ Dumbledore's voice cut through the silence.

'I see you're impressed, Gandalf,' interrupted Dumbledore, smiling. 'I am honoured. But if you don't mind, I think we should head inside now.'

'Ah, of course,' agreed Gandalf, following Dumbledore through the drawbridge, curious as to what mysteries awaited him inside.

* * *

After a few long minutes of walking, they finally arrived at Dumbledore's office. While the castle looked pretty, it wasn't anything special, compared to what Gandalf had seen in Middle-Earth. Nothing had really caught his interest, save for the door to Dumbledore's office, which required a password to be said in order for it to open, and the animated portraits, who were just having conversations amongst themselves. He would have to ask Dumbledore later on.

After ascending a flight of stairs, they entered his office. There was a curious red bird on a pedestal. It wasn't in any of the books he had read on dark creatures, so he assumed it wasn't evil. Gandalf was tempted to ask Dumbledore what manner of creature it was, but he had already pulled out a few papers.

'Now, Gandalf,' said Dumbledore, putting the papers on the desk, facing Gandalf. 'Just sign your name at the bottom of these papers.' He offered Gandalf a quill.

Accepting the quill, Gandalf sat down, and read the papers. There was no magic around either the paper, or the quill, or even the ink on the quill. No enchantments, or spells; nothing which would bind Gandalf magically to whatever it was he was signing. This was all honour based, of which Gandalf was glad. He was positive he could break through any spells or enchantments that they might lay upon him, but he'd rather not.

Scanning the pages briefly, Gandalf concluded he could adhere to all the rules and regulations, and he quickly signed his name. As the deal was sealed, Gandalf handed back the papers, at which both he and Dumbledore smiled.

'Thank you.' Dumbledore took back the pages, and put them in his drawer. 'Now, you'll begin work in two days' time. That should give you enough time to settle in, and prepare something for your classes. One of the ghosts will have to escort you to your room. I've some unfortunate paperwork to finish. I hope you find your rooms to your liking.' Dumbledore smiled warmly, his eyes twinkling. Gandalf smiled, turned, and almost left, but Dumbledore had one last thing to tell him. 'Oh, and Gandalf,' Gandalf stopped and turned. 'You'll have to do a little something on the day.' Gandalf nodded his head, and finally left.

* * *

Outside of Dumbledore's office, Gandalf nearly jumped when he came face to face with a ghost, who's neck was nearly cut through entirely. 'Oh,' Gandalf chuckled nervously. 'You startled me.'

'No problem,' the ghost announced cheerfully. 'Come along, I'm here to take you to your room.' The ghost turned, and floated along the corridor. Gandalf took a deep breath, and followed after him.

'Pardon my intrusion,' Gandalf began warily, as he walked down the corridor next to the ghost. 'But I was wondering: how exactly do ghosts such as yourselves come into being? I confess, my knowledge is lacking in that area. I do hope I'm not being insensitive.'

The ghost merely laughed. 'Don't worry,' he reassured the new professor. 'We're simply spirits that haven't moved on yet.'

'Moved on?' asked Gandalf, somewhat suddenly. 'You mean that there is an afterlife in this reality?' The ghost looked at him sideways at that.

'Err, yes,' he replied. 'There is. Anyway, that's all we are. Some are a tad malevolent, especially at the beginning. But they usually calm down. Just beware for the poltergeist, Peeves. Nasty fellow, he is. Always causing a bit of trouble.'

'Oh,' remarked Gandalf, raising his eyebrows. 'I know of a few young Tooks who are like that. And one young Baggins.' Once again, his memory brought up the Hobbits. Of all the hobbits, his favourite had to be the Took clan, and Bilbo Baggins, who had Tookish blood in him, which accounted for his completely un-Hobbit like behaviour, even for a child. He smiled, faintly but fondly. He noticed the ghost beside him look confused, as though he was trying to remember those names.

'Tooks? Baggins?'

'I don't imagine you'd recognise those names,' Gandalf tried to reassure the ghost. However, the ghost merely waved it away.

'No, no,' he said. 'I have definitely heard of them. I'll get them in a moment, don't you worry. I think I overheard one or two of the students talk about them.' Gandalf furrowed his brow at this. As far as he was aware, the only constant in this world was the existence of humans. Beyond that, nothing!

'I really don't think that is possible,' Gandalf said, quietly.

'Oh' exclaimed the ghost. 'That's it! They're Hobbits, aren't they? Some children were talking about them. Some book or another.' Gandalf looked forward, troubled.

'Indeed,' he muttered, concerned. 'I don't suppose you'd know which book?' he asked, hopeful. The ghost shook his head.

'Unfortunately not,' he told Gandalf, who looked slightly down cast. 'Sorry,' the ghost apologised. Gandalf shook his head.

'Oh, no need to apologise,' he told his guide. 'On the contrary, you have provided me with valuable information. Now all I need do is fill in the blanks.' He chuckled. 'And there is a lifetime summed up,' he remarked.

They finally stopped. The ghost turned to Gandalf.

'Well,' he held a hand towards the door. 'Here is your room. I hope you find it to your likings. I hope you find out what you are searching for, and welcome to Hogwarts!' Gandalf nodded, thanked him, and headed in.

* * *

The room was certainly more comfortable looking than his room at the inn. It was larger, with a large, clean bed, and a desk that was slightly smaller. There were doors, leading to other rooms, and a large, wooden cupboard. There was a fireplace, and a mantelpiece. The floor didn't creak, and the room didn't reek of strange alcohol. There weren't any spells, beyond ones to keep the room from falling apart. There appeared to be few actual nails. Gandalf felt slightly disappointed. It was a curious thing, Gandalf thought to himself, that many who gain the power to do things very quickly prefer to take their time; it seemed that with greater power came a greater desire to do things by hand. Or perhaps that was merely some. However, it seemed to him that these witches and wizards used magic overmuch. It had good results, of course. That he could not deny. However, it seemed to him that they used magic in excess. But then again, he was in a strange new universe, and what was strange to him was commonplace for them, and what was commonplace for him would be most likely strange for them.

Gandalf put his hat on the hat rack, keeping himself from recoiling as it moved a limb towards him. He felt he should be used to it by now, but it ever startled him, if only slightly. He leaned his staff against it, too. He went and sat down on his bed. He sighed. He now wondered how on earth people have heard about Hobbits. Enough to write a book on them! He hoped this person still lived. He would very much like to talk to another scholar of Hobbits, as he liked to call himself. This of course brought up the issue of how different this world was from his own. It could be much more similar than he originally thought. How much similar, he could not say. He had found no sign of elves, or dwarves, or many of the creatures that he was familiar with, although there were many new and fascinating creatures for him to learn about. He had learnt of the existence of dragons in this world, which alarmed him at first. He soon calmed down after learning that they were little more than beasts, with very little intelligence. Gandalf made a note to, as soon as he got a chance, find this book about Hobbits. If anything else, it might prove to be an enlightening read.

Gandalf looked at the clock upon the mantelpiece. Nearly midday. Gandalf felt a slight pang of hunger. He reasoned that a small meal would suffice. Then he would go to the inn, retrieve his belongings, and say his farewells. Gandalf gathered his strength, and rose. He took his staff and then headed off to find the kitchen.

It took Gandalf quite some time to find the kitchen. There were nearly as many passages to Hogwarts as to Imladris. However, at last Gandalf found the kitchen. It was empty, so Gandalf searched a while. He was still trying to get used to many of the bizarre foods and flavours, and had learnt to be wary of the delicacy known as jelly beans, for they had many flavours, both good and bad. However, at last he found the ingredients to make a meal to his liking. He ate his meal in the kitchen, and then headed back to his room to retrieve his hat, and a large bag. From there, he left to find Hagrid.

After a short walk he arrived at Hagrids cottage, and knocked on the door. 'Ah! Gandalf!' greeted Hagrid heartily. 'Come in, come in. I'll put some tea on the stove.' He ushered Gandalf in, then quickly put some water on to boil. 'Now, what brings you 'ere, ay? I 'aven't seen you in a few days. What you been up to, now? How'd the test go?'

Gandalf waited patiently for Hagrid to stop before he answered. 'I shall tell you my account once the tea has finished. All I'll say now is that the test went well.' At that, Hagrid clapped once, and yelled joyfully.

'I knew it!' he laughed. 'Well done, Gandalf, well done.' He sat down with a content sigh. 'Ahh, but this raises a question.' Gandalf raised his eyebrows slightly.

'Oh, and what might that question be?' he asked. Hagrid began to look rather sheepish.

'Well, whether or not you'll make it to the end of the year,' he answered, looking to the window.

'And why would that be the question, may I ask?' queried Gandalf, leaning forwards. Hagrid looked downwards, sheepishly. There was a silence, before he answered.

'Well,' he began uncertainly. 'For the past few years, a great deal of bad stuff has 'append. And the Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers were all involved somehow.' He faltered, before closing his mouth.

'Go on,' pushed Gandalf, and to Hagrid it seemed that there was a renewed strength in him. As if a great fire was lit within his heart.

'Well,' he began, trying to find the correct words. 'It's a bit of long story. I'll try to keep it short.' And so, Hagrid told Gandalf a tale. It began when he was a student in Hogwarts, along with another student, by the name of Tom Riddle. He moved forward, and told how Tom, who had great strength in both mind and magic, had grown resentful of muggleborn witches and wizards, and had forged a secret army, and waged a war. He changed his name, and went henceforth as Voldemort. Hagrid was reluctant to say his name. According to Hagrid, this Voldemort character, who he called from thereon out You-know-who, had been killed when he attacked a family known as the Potters. He cast the Killing Curse upon their child. However, it had backfired, and he was killed. Or so they thought. Rather, it was merely his body that was destroyed, and his soul had survived, somehow. And in the years that had passed, when the child came of age, and he arrived at Hogwarts, things occurred that pointed to the returning of Voldemort. In his first year, the DADA teacher sought a stone, which would be able bring Voldemort back, fully. It also was revealed that the face of Voldemort resided on the back of his head. It was Harry Potter, with the aid of his two friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger that managed to stop him, though more by good fortune than much else. The next year, there was a wholly incompetent teacher, who had earned a good reputation by going on adventures with other, more impressive wizards, and taking credit for their good deeds, erasing their memories. He ended up having nothing to do with the rest of the adventure, besides being a hindrance. In the end, he lost his memory, and Harry it seemed met with Voldemort himself, or a memory of him. He saved a young girls live, Ginny Weasley, and killed a Basilisk, and even destroyed one of the memory of Voldemort. And more was recounted, but nothing really interested Gandalf except the fifth year of Harry's school life. In that, there was a tournament, which Harry Potter had entered, by the machinations of a man named Barty Crouch Jr., who in the guise of their DADA teacher, had manipulated events so that Harry would end up in a graveyard. There, a being known as Wormtail waited, so as to entrap Harry, and use him to bring back Voldemort fully. He succeeded, but there was an unforeseen problem. Another had arrived with Harry. One Cedric Diggory. There was much misfortune that night, for Wormtail had slain him, and brought Voldemort back, and with him, many of his most loyal followers were revealed. At that point, the kettle began to whistle, and Hagrid got up to make tea.

Gandalf pondered this for a while. Things were finally becoming clearer to him. The mystery of why he was here seemed to be unravelling to him. 'Thank you,' he told Hagrid, as he handed Gandalf the tea. Gandalf placed it on the table, still holding to it. 'Now, this has been very interesting indeed. I fear my own tale shan't be nearly half as interesting as yours. As for what I've been up to, I've spent the last week going about, pursuing other studies. I've found myself rather curious about their transportation, and I've spent my energies mostly on that. I found out also of computers, which contain stores upon stores of knowledge, the likes of which would amaze even some of the great lore-masters. Ah, but there are things I shall have to take with me, when I return to my own home, to give.

'I also spent a while going to the local parks. There are creatures there I have seldom seen, and some whose tongues I have not learnt, until then. I went to exchange some of the coins that I had gathered for their currency. I received quite a bit. I then tried what they called "street food". That was an experience indeed. Some of it was good, and some of it was… not quite so good. I afterwards visited one of their "zoos". That was an experience! There were creatures there I had never dreamed of! I must go there again, if only to learn their names. I only visited them on the final day.' Gandalf paused, and took a sip of his tea. He continued. 'But now, you want to know of my trial. It went well, and quickly.' Gandalf told Hagrid of his short battle against Snape. He could see that the Games-master was astounded by the story. At the end, he continued to drink his tea.

At last, Gandalf finished his tea. He looked outside the window. It was soon becoming noon. He turned to Hagrid. 'Now, to answer your other question,' he began. 'I am in need of a horse. Are there any? I am more accustomed to horses than to brooms.'

'A horse?' Hagrid repeated. 'Aye, there's a few horses at Hogwarts, but they're for certain occasions, only. There's a few other options. Come on, I'll show you.' Hagrid got up and left, with Gandalf, who finished his tea, following after.

They went into the edge Forbidden Forest, where Hagrid told Gandalf to wait, while he went further in. After a few minutes of waiting, Hagrid returned, with a winged creature. It appeared in body to be a horse, but had wings like an eagle, and a beak. It was feathered all over, too. It took Gandalf a moment to recognise the creature.

'Hagrid, is this a Hippogriff?' Gandalf asked, cautiously.

'Yep,' Hagrid replied eagerly. 'This ones Buckbeak. You read up on them?' He stopped a few meters from Gandalf.

'Briefly,' replied Gandalf. 'As I recall, they are proud creatures.' He could see where this was going. Still, it was better than a broom

'Aye, that they are,' agreed Hagrid. 'Now, if you wanna pat 'im, and then fly him, you'll 'ave to get his permission first. You know how to do that?' Gandalf shook his head.

'I'm afraid not. I only had a brief read on them.'

'Oh well then, all you 'ave to do is bow. If he bows back, that means he likes you. If not, then you'll just have to back off. Okay?' He watched tentatively as Gandalf, who had placed his staff on a tree stepped forth, and stopped.

Gandalf bowed at the waist, low. There was a moment of tension, and Hagrid was concerned that it might not work. Fortunately, the proud beast lowered its head. Gandalf recognised this as a sign to approach him. He cautiously reached out his hand to pet the Hippogriff. To his relief, the strange mixture of creatures did not shy from him, or attack him.

'There we go,' murmured Gandalf to the Hippogriff, petting its neck. 'Does he require a saddle?' He asked this to Hagrid, without taking his eyes of Buckbeak.

'Oh, no,' answered Hagrid. 'No, not Buckbeak. Too proud for saddles, Hippogriffs are.' Gandalf nodded his understanding. He stopped patting, but did not let go of Buckbeak.

'Very well, then.' Gandalf turned to Hagrid, slightly. 'Thank you, my friend. If ever you require my help, you need only ask. I am ever in your debt.' He sprung aboard Buckbeak, and looked down upon Hagrid. 'Fair well, good Hagrid. I shall see you soon.' He looked up. 'Come, Buckbeak. Let us be off.' The Hippogriff flared its wings, ran a couple of steps, and then took off. He flew in a circle, ere Gandalf steered him towards Hogsmeade. Far below, Hagrid waved them off, a smile on his face. He sighed contentedly, and went back to his cottage.

Far above, Gandalf and Buckbeak flew towards Hogsmeade. Buckbeak flew swiftly indeed. Gandalf likened him to one of the Mearas. Some minutes later, he arrived by the Three Broomsticks Inn. People scattered, getting out of the way of the landing Hippogriff. Gandalf apologised incessantly to the startled onlookers. He dismounted.

'Stay here, please,' he asked the Hippogriff. He had learned that the Hippogriff spoke in the language of the eagles, although he had a different accent to the ones Gandalf was accustomed to. Buckbeak shrieked his agreement. Gandalf smiled, and thanked him. He then went inside, and searched for Lily. He found her giving a meal to someone. He went and greeted her.

'Gandalf!' she cried when he neared. 'How wonderful to see you. Would you like something to eat? Tell me how it went. I simply must know.' She called one of the staff over, and was about to give them an order, when Gandalf interrupted her.

'Actually,' he stopped her before she could say anything. 'I think I'll just have a drink. The usual, please.' He turned to Lily. 'I've already had a small lunch.' He smiled, and then added: 'At Hogwarts.' His smile turned into a grin, as Lily cried out in gladness.

'Ah! Congratulations, Gandalf. Why, this calls for celebration.'

'Thank you,' Gandalf told her, putting up a hand to stop her further outburst. 'But no. At least, not now. I can stay, and have a drink, and talk, but not much else. I must take my books, to my room in Hogwarts. I'm afraid I won't be seeing very much of you, Lily.' Lily waved her hand in dismissal.

'Oh, that's fine, Gandalf,' she said. 'As long as you come and visit me from time to time. Oh, here you go.' She took Gandalf's drink, and gave it to him. She thanked the waiter.

'I most certainly will, my friend,' he reassured her, accepting his drink. 'Of that, you can be certain.' He smiled, and they began to discuss things. She told him of things that had transpired, such as the excitement of going back to Hogwarts. She told him she had heard news about the recent appearance of Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic. This troubled Gandalf deeply, but he put it aside for the time being, for he wished to enjoy the time. So, in turn, Gandalf spoke about what he had gathered from his travels to the rest of the world. He told her of what he had seen; of planes, ships, and cars he spoke. Of zoos, and restaurants he wished to visit. He did voice his disappointment though, briefly, about the dwindling number of trees, and that they could not speak. He complained also that this world was far noisier than what he was accustomed to.

At last, after half an hour of talk, he finished his drink. He thanked Lily, and bid her farewell. As he left, his bag full of books, he placed an enchantment on the Three Broomsticks, so that their food and drink shall be greater than ever before for a thousand years times. He leapt on to Buckbeak, and bid the inn a silent fond farewell, and took off.

A few minutes after, Gandalf arrived at Hagrids cottage again. He thanked him once again for his lending of Buckbeak. He retrieved his staff, and set off, back to Hogwarts. While he walked, he wondered to himself what he would teach the children. He reasoned it would be wise to teach them to defend their minds. While ósanwe, or telepathy, as it seemed to be called, did not quite exist here, he had learnt memories could be invaded, and manipulated, and read, by those who are skilled, and even broken. There was, however, a way to protect ones' mind. Gandalf decided, as he came upon Hogwarts, that teaching this skill would be immensely useful. He pondered whether or not he should teach them how to invade ones' mind, but soon dismissed that idea. It would not be wise, giving humans such an ability, but to give human _children_ that ability would be to invite chaos and danger.

Inside the castle, Gandalf made his way with great difficulty to his room. The stairs of the castle moved about, much to his frustration and fascination. They were one more thing he would have to study when he had time. When he reached his room, he took out two books that he remembered had a good deal regarding the protection of the mind. Gandalf wondered how he would teach them that in a practical way, without teaching them how to intrude another's mind first. He would have to demand that they swear an oath never to intrude into another's mind without their express permission, or otherwise great need. He would teach them how to protect one's mind first and foremost, and then teach them how to invade someone's.

He set aside the books, and wrote a letter to Dumbledore. There was no time to ask the parents to give buy the books, so he decided to buy them himself. They were rather cheap, and he had earned a good deal. Finishing his letter to Dumbledore, he put it aside, and wrote on to the bookstore, asking for a copy of three hundred books. He gave instructions to his owl, which was in a cage, and then sent it off. Having accomplished all that he had set out to do, he did something he'd never done before.

He had a shower, before going to bed.

* * *

**Thank you all for your patience. Sorry I haven't uploaded a chapter recently. I have a habit of procrastination. And exams are coming up soon, so don't expect a new story soon.  
**


	4. Chapter 4

The day finally began. Overnight, Gandalf had slept lightly, pondering the deeper meaning to his arrival here. It was obvious he was here to help stop this Voldemort creature, but how and why he knew not yet. He woke up fully rested though, and prepared. There was a knock at his door, and he rose to greet it with the necessary coins in hand. He was shocked to find Dumbledore there.

'Professor Gandalf,' he had said, a disappointed tone in voice. 'I suppose it's my fault that I forgot to tell you, but from now on, all needs such as this are paid by Hogwarts. That is why I have paid your books in full. If ever you need something paid for, please tell me, and I'll answer you.' He smiled, and after Gandalf, who was pleasantly surprised, had thanked him, was off. Gandalf did not see him until later that day, when he had arrived at what was called the Great Hall, for dinner.

During the day, Gandalf had spent a great deal of time in the library, desperately trying to find the book on Hobbits, but to no avail. He even asked the librarian, but she said she had heard of no such book. He sighed. It seemed he would have to use other libraries. He turned to leave, and looked at a clock, and saw that it was time for dinner. For that he was glad, as he had forgone both breakfast and dinner in an attempt to find the book.

There was a large number of students, nearly three hundred, and four large tables, under four large banners, in this Great Hall. There was a great table at the halls head. Gandalf strode up there, his staff clacking on the hall tiles. He looked up, sensing an enchantment on the roof. He looked, and saw a great many candles, and a lovely night sky, stars sprinkled over it. The stars seemed to produce their own lights. Gandalf smiled. It was indeed a lovely seeming trick. With it, the weather could be whatever one wished, regardless of the outside. He sensed that emotions could affect the enchanted weather.

Gandalf reached the table, and sat beside a large seat, which he reasoned would be Dumbledore's. He had decided to forgo his usual pointy hat. Looking down, he saw an empty platter. Looking deeper, he saw an enchantment placed on it, though it's purpose, Gandalf could only guess. For all he knew, it could very well be to keep the plate from turning back into clay. He looked up in time to see Professor Snape enter the hall. He stalked up to the seat next to Gandalf, frowning the entire way.

'Ahh, Professor Snape,' greeted Gandalf, cheerfully. 'How are you feeling?'

Snape looked towards Gandalf, uncertain how to approach the question. On the one hand, the man was more cheerful than he liked, and his ego was still bruised. On the other, few had the ability to defeat him in combat, and none as swiftly as Gandalf had. He decided then, to answer respectfully, if perhaps a bit strained.

'Fine, thank you.' He offered Gandalf a half smile. He then turned his attention to the platter, muttering a meal -which appeared, to Gandalf's great relief, to be the use of the enchantment-, awaiting Dumbledore, and hoping not to have to converse with the man. That hope was soon dispersed.

'Tell me,' began Gandalf after conjuring his own meal. 'What do you teach?' He turned to the dour seeming fellow, determined to make a friend, or at least an ally out of him.

'Well, the previous years I taught Potions,' Snape began, almost unaware as to what he was saying, or that he even was saying anything at all. 'This year, however, I shall aid you in teaching the Defence against the Dark Arts.'

'Indeed!' remarked Gandalf. 'I look forward to it.' And he did, for more reasons than one.

Snape turned to Gandalf, an eyebrow cocked. This man, whoever he was, would most certainly change his mind before the end of the first term. However, he felt compelled to continue the conversation.

'Tell me, Professor Gandalf,' he began, but was stopped.

'Please, just Gandalf,' Gandalf requested.

Snape raised his eyebrows slightly. 'Very well, then. Tell me, Gandalf, is your staff magical?' He looked towards Gandalf's staff, resting on the edge of the table.

'Magical?' repeated Gandalf. 'No, though it serves more uses than merely a prop for an old man. It serves as a conduit, not unlike your own wands, though it is simply wood. It does have a nice crystal on top, but that is just a crystal too. It also serves as a symbol of authority, in an order of mine.' He then smiled. 'It's also a handy pipe-holder.'

'Do you have any magical items on your person, by any chance?' asked Snape. He did not feel the presence of any magical objects, but he knew that there was something with magical properties. Only magic could compel him to talk so readily.

'Yes, I do, I suppose,' answered Gandalf. 'I have a ring.' He lifted his hand to, with a glimmer around the air, reveal Narya.

'It makes people talk?' asked Snape. That would be a useful tool to have during classes.

'Not quite,' remarked Gandalf, understanding as to why Snape was curious about any magical items coming to him. 'Rather, it would be better to say that it gives whomever wears it confidence, and hope, and the wearer, if skilled, can project the same confidence and hope onto others. I suppose, if someone is fearful of talking, one could give them the courage to talk. But, first and foremost, the ring is to slow the decay and change of things and peoples, and give them strength, and to be a defence against the weariness of the world. However, it also allows one some measure of control over fire, or enhances their control over fire, should they already have some. It requires a great deal of practice to gain a measure of control over it. It was forged some millennia ago, from my point of view, by the High Elven Prince of Eregion, Celebrimbor. It was made with two others…'

As he spoke of the rings history, Snape felt as though he could see the tale play out before him. Gandalf stopped, however, after a few minutes of talk, before getting to the War of the Ring. Snape felt almost disappointed that he had stopped, despite still not knowing the reason behind his willingness to talk. But he remembered a particular detail about what Gandalf had said.

'You said it was forged by an Elf?' he asked, slowly. Gandalf nodded. 'I take it then your Elves are different from the ones here.'

Gandalf's eyebrows shot up. 'You have Elves here?' he asked. Perhaps he was wrong about this being a different universe. It was indeed possible that it was the far future, which he had not been a part of during the Song. His thoughts were soon brushed away, when Snape continued to speak.

'Yes, but not quite like the one you have described.' He was concerned he might anger the new professor. 'Here, they are far less impressive than the ones you have described. I rather imagine you wouldn't recognise one as an Elf.'

'And what do they look like?' Gandalf pressed, curious.

Before Snape could answer, however, Dumbledore arrived. He took this as an opportunity to get out of what could be a very awkward conversation.

'Good evening, headmaster,' he greeted Dumbledore.

'Ah, good evening indeed, Severus,' the headmaster replied, almost shocked. Snape had never been one to greet him, or anyone for that matter, first, and certainly not with "good evening". 'Sleep well, last night?'

'Somewhat,' replied Snape, still lacking his usual acidity. 'I have been talking to Gandalf here, however. He has been kind enough to tell me the history behind his ring, Narya. I must say it's rather… fascinating.'

'Indeed?' remarked Dumbledore, hiding as much surprise as he could. 'I shall have to hear it sometime, dear Gandalf.'

'I would most obliged,' Gandalf replied, cheerfully. He reasoned that no-one would be able to steal it from him, and if they did, they would be hard pressed to find a use for evil means, assuming that they even had the capacity to use it. Indeed, they would first have to learn how to use it. So Gandalf reasoned it would be safe to tell the peoples of this world about it, though not too much.

Gandalf's attention was then directed towards a booming voice. It emanated from the most unlikely of things: a hat. It started by singing a song. It sung about the dark times they were going through, and the horrors that may come, and that they would all have to be brave if they were to come through. Then McGonagall stepped up, and called a roll of names. They were, Gandalf assumed, the first year students. They put the hat on, and after a bit of muttering and murmuring, the hat decided which House they belonged in. They took it away when it was finished.

He turned his attention to the front, as Dumbledore stepped up to the podium, and bid all the students a very good evening. In a few seconds, they were all silent, save for a few murmurs. Once their attention had been gained, Dumbledore continued to speak.

* * *

Harry Potter stepped back into these familiar halls. His nose still smarted from the kick he received, and the fixing spell Luna had cast on him. He spotted his friends, and strode over to them, noticing their murmuring and assuming it was directed towards the blood on his robe. He took a seat next to Ginny, brushing away their questions about blood on his robe. He instead turned his attention towards the front, where Dumbledore had stepped up.

'A very good evening to you all,' the headmaster said, getting the attention of everyone. 'Now, before I begin, I'd like to introduce the two new members of our little family. First off, Professor Horace Slughorn, who taught here at Hogwarts before. He will be resuming his position as the Potions Master. The position of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will now be run by Professor Snape, and Professor Gandalf the Grey, the newest addition to our family.'

Harry Potter turned his attention to the man that Dumbledore gestured towards. Sitting there was an old man that Harry could only describe as kingly. He sat there, with broad shoulders, long grey hair, and a sweeping beard. He appeared as an ancient and wizened king, and beneath bushy silver eyebrows sat eyes like coals, that could leap into flames. His attention was diverted back to Dumbledore, who spoke up again.

'Now, you may remember being searched, upon entering the school,' he said, his tone darkening. 'This is because, many years ago, in this very school, in these very halls, walked a student, who seemed to all the world to be an ordinary student. He went by the name… Tom Riddle.' There were gasps and murmurs going around the hall, and Harry stiffened at the name, memories flooding back. Dumbledore continued. 'Of course, nowadays he goes by another name. Voldemort. Let this be a reminder that, every day, every hour, this very minute, perhaps, dark forces are trying to penetrate these castle walls. But their greatest weapon, is you.' He went silent, letting the words sink in. Then he lightened up again. 'Just something to think about. Now, off you go to bed, pip pip.'

* * *

In the Gryffindor common room, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sat around a fire, pondering the meaning behind the words spoken by Dumbledore. They were frustratingly vague, as ever, though this did harden their idea that Voldemort had students in his grasp . After a time, Hermione changed the subject.

'What do you all think about this new DADA teacher, though?' she asked. 'I don't know why, but there was something about him that made him seem,' she sighed in wonder, 'I don't know, ancient. But in a good way, though. He looked like he knew what he would be talking about. Like he'd fought before.'

'When I saw him, I don't know why, but the only way I could describe him was kingly, and wise,' commented Harry, not looking away from the fire. 'He looked like, like he was weary. Like he was carrying a great burden.'

'Did you see his eyes, though?' asked Ron. 'They looked, I dunno, kinda veiled. But they looked like coals, that were ready to burst into flame in an instant. And good lord, those eyebrows need a trim.' They chuckled lightly at that.

Ginny spoke up. 'He seemed to me,' she began slowly, 'that all of him is veiled, as you said. Like what we see is just what he wants us to see.'

'Like a reverse boggart?' asked Ron.

Ginny tilted her head. 'Sort of,' she said. 'I guess. I don't know. He just seems, well, a bit more, you know? More than any wizard or muggle, or anything.'

'You think he isn't human?' asked Harry, finally looking up from the dancing flames.

'I don't know what to think,' replied Ginny.

They sat in silence for some moments, before Hermione spoke up again.

'Why do you think Dumbledore hired him? And where did he come from?' she asked.

'Who the hell knows?' Ron asked in return.

'A wizard who's like him? I feel like I should have heard something about him.' Hermione sighed. 'It's late. Let's just go to bed. I have a free period tomorrow. I'll do some research, see if I can find anything. And we have DADA tomorrow.' She got up, with Ginny following, and left for bed. Harry and Ron followed suit not long after, yawning.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Dumbledore's office, Gandalf the Grey sat on a chair, waiting to put a hat on his head.

It looked not unlike his own hat, save its looking as if it had a face. Peering into it, he saw there strange magic. Dumbledore would soon explain why he was here.

'Now, Gandalf, the thing is that you need to be sorted,' explained Dumbledore, after rummaging through papers. 'Like the children. The Hat will sort you based on your personality. Because, however, it was made for children, it may find you a bit more difficult, considering you'd make me look like a child.' Dumbledore and Gandalf shared a smile. 'So, I've instructed it to be a bit more lenient. While children, and adults, would be separated into one single House, you'll be separated into two, and at most, three. Now, if you'd please.' He gestured to the hat.

Gandalf put the hat on. The moment he did, the hat let out a gasp.

'_Now, this is indeed a challenge,'_ he (it?) remarked. '_A very long life, very long indeed, Professor. But, two things are obvious. You belong in both Gryffindor, and in Hufflepuff. I also imagine you would be suited well in both Slytherin __and __Ravenclaw. You're both ambitious, and intelligent. You're cunning, planning ahead centuries at a time if you need to, and you love to learn, and to teach, sometimes. I think you should go into… Slytherin, Gryffindor, and Hufflepuff!'_

With that, Gandalf took the hat off, and passed it to Dumbledore. He rose.

'Thank you, Gandalf. These are some excellent choices, I must say,' Dumbledore told the new Professor, a cheery voice. 'Now, ah, here's your schedule. And while most teachers here would receive a tie or robe or scarf of sorts, you'll have to wait for yours, as it needs to be custom made. Good night.' Gandalf took the paper, thanked and welcomed Dumbledore, and took his leave, bidding him a fair night.

Once he was gone, a man stepped out from behind a corner. He bore lines of hardship; a great stress was on him.

'Well, Remus,' Dumbledore began, slightly less cheerful. 'What do you think? A worthy member of our little club, no?'

'If only half of what you told me is true, Albus, then more than worthy.' Remus Lupin stepped next to Dumbledore, a question forming in his mind. 'But the question is: do you think you could convince him to stay?'

'Possibly. I may not even need to.' Dumbledore mused silently. 'Well, no matter. It's late now. We both need our rest. Will you be staying here for the night, Remus?'

Remus shook his head. 'No, sorry. I've got to get back to Tonks.'

Dumbledore simply smiled. 'Of course. Good night, Remus.'

'Good night, Dumbledore.' And with that, he turned and left, leaving Dumbledore to his thoughts.

This would prove to be an interesting year, no doubt. He would have little difficulty, he imagined, getting Gandalf to agree to joining the Order. The only difficulty he would have would be convincing him to agree to his plan. He couldn't very well keep him in the dark; the Maiar had uncovered better hidden secrets than this. Dumbledore sighed, and looked over to a stack of papers he had to fill out. He would do them tomorrow, he decided. For now, he decided to go and alter his plans of action.

**Thank you all. Sorry that this is a bit shorter than usual. Hopefully it isn't too bad. Many thanks to all your comments and advice.**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

The Teaching Begins

The light of the sun filtered through the windows of Gandalf's room, rousing him from his sleep. He rose, and prepared for the lesson, making sure he has his own copy of the books, and knew which pages to turn to. For the first time in many centuries, he felt nervous. It wasn't because he was new to teaching, for he had been a teacher many times before, though it was many millennia ago. No, he feared rather that he might fail them. He had sensed great hostility between two of the houses, Gryffindor and Slytherin. He did not wish to be the catalyst for even greater rivalry. In many ways, the house of Slytherin reminded him of the Eldar, the Elves, long ago; their core values of ambition were akin to the Elves of old, such as the Noldor. He desperately hoped they did not go the same way that many of the Elves did. But the house of Gryffindor reminded him more of the race of Men. They were neither the wisest, nor the most ambitious. But their bravery was unmatched. However, bravery can oftentimes be misplaced, or even mistaken for anger. And more often than not, bravery could take over foresight.

But to Gandalf, ambition and bravery were not direct opposites. Indeed, they often complimented one another. So, there must be something deeper.

_There's still much to learn about then nature of this world,_ Gandalf reassured himself. _Perhaps such rivalries are natural here. A mere school tradition. _He tried to ignore the nagging doubt in his mind telling him that he felt no other such rivalries.

Gandalf sighed. What he did here could very well be one of the most important things he had ever done, second only to his mission in Middle Earth. He looked out the window, where he could see a good deal of the castle. He saw the Forbidden Forest and could see the dim shape of Hagrid's hut. He bowed his head. Gandalf drew on the power of Narya, and he felt his fear dissipate. He then raised his head, and smiled, with a new certainty he would not fail them, before he turned and left for the library, donning his hat.

This time round, he did not wish to find the book on Hobbits, but rather a map of Hogwarts. He knew his way to the kitchen, and to his room, and to the library, and the Great Hall, and Dumbledore's office. However, he still had difficulty, and didn't know how to go to where he needed to be, especially for today. The accursed stairs did not help, and more than once did he feel the urge to shatter them or freeze them. Fortunately, there were still some hours to go before his first class.

After he found directions to a map from a very kind, if a bit possessive and overprotective, librarian, and after committing it to memory, Gandalf spent a while reading. He decided that, as he would very likely get nothing on the subject of Hobbits, he would read up on mystical creatures. He had very little time to research them when he was preparing for his test. He decided to start with the winged creatures.

The time passed, and Gandalf found himself deeply invested. One could spend days and days studying a single one of these creatures. He finished reading about the thestral, skeletal like horse creatures with wings that could only be seen by someone who has seen death, when a young girl approached him, nervously.

"Excuse me, professor," she said, hiding the quiver in her voice.

Gandalf turned to her, a warm glow in his eyes. "Yes, my dear," he replied. "How can I help you?"

All of a sudden, the girl felt her nervousness wash away. Later on, when she would retell the story to her friends, she would only describe it as some sort of ancient magic. She continued.

"I was wondering if you could answer a few questions for me," she began. "See, I was curious last night, during dinner. I wanted to know a little bit more about you. It's a little bit of a hobby of mine. However, I haven't found anything, no biography, or references or anything, but then I saw you here, and I just wanted to ask: where are you from? I've never heard of you, and you seem like someone I should've heard of."

Gandalf smiled at her, warmly. He perceived why she wished to know where he was from. In a rare moment of transparency, he distilled her doubts, if only a little bit. "I am from far off, a place that is not charted on your maps. I am not in any of your records because I did not exist in this world until very recently. I am here because Dumbledore offered to help me find a way back to my home world, if, in exchange, I teach the children of this school. I know only very little of your war with Voldemort, but I've swore to aid you however I can. And I assure you, I am here to help. I will explain more later, should we have the time."

The girl nodded, slowly, as if unsure. "Thank you," she said. Just then, the bell rung.

"I think it's time we each go to our classes," said Gandalf, asking, "What do you have?"

"I have…" she pulled out her schedule and cried softly in surprise. "I have DADA."

"Indeed?" asked Gandalf. "Well, then, shall we be off?" With that, he rose, and followed her out.

As they walked, they chatted. The girl, who Gandalf learnt to his surprise was Hermione, was a wonderfully curious and clever person, reminding him of a very young Galadriel. She explained to him all they had covered in the DADA classes, which fortunately did not include legilemency and occlumency. She led him down the path to the classroom, asking an assortment of questions on the coming classes, refraining from asking about himself only just. Gandalf told her he would explain everything in the classroom. Gandalf felt an urge to tell her more about the world, and his nature, but found no way to explain in short time what he was. He felt her curiosity refreshing, in a way. He had not seen such curiosity since the First Age of the world, save for the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins, and the First Age was now to him but a distant memory.

He was glad when they arrived at the classroom. He had to calm Hermione down when she realized that she never actually got any books. He explained that Dumbledore had placed them on the desks in the classroom.

They arrived at the door, and went in. Gandalf watched as Hermione found her way to her friends, Ron and Harry, Gandalf guessed. He strode to the desk confidently. He saw a parchment on the table that had names on it. The students, most likely. He stood in front of the desk and turned to the students. They gazed at him, many curious about the nature of this strange man. He saw Hermione elbow her redheaded friend in the ribs, and thought he caught the name 'Ron'. He took a deep breath, then spoke.

"Well then," he said, slowly but clearly, holding his staff in front of him, leaning on it. "Welcome all to another class of the Defense Against the Dark Arts. As you heard last night, I am Gandalf the Grey, your new teacher for the year. I understand that in the past few years, besides one, you have had only less than competent teachers, servants of Voldemort, pompous fools, madmen, and worst of all, if I gather correctly, Umbridge." There was muted chatter and laughter. He smiled. "I would like to reassure you," he continued, stopping the noise, "that I am none of those. If I might boast, I should say I am better than any who have ever taught here. If we have the time, and I the patience, I may tell you more about myself, and where I am from. However, in the coming lessons, I will teach you the subtler parts of battle, and defense against the darkness. But beyond that, I will teach when and where and how to use your powers." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Now tell me, who here has heard of occlumency?"

Only a two hands shot up, although some others were raised tentatively. Hermione, and the other boy next her, Harry, if Gandalf had to guess. Gandalf frowned a little. There was something wrong with the child's head. It was as if something was there, that shouldn't be. He would worry about it later. With his staff, he gestured to Hermione.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Occlumency is the art of defending one's mind against legilemency, the art of invading another's mind," Hermione answered. "It is very difficult and only highly skilled wizards can do it with any proficiency."

"That is correct, miss Granger," Gandalf told her. "One point to Gryffindor." There were a few groans, which soon died down. "Now, has anyone here had any experience with either?" Only one hand was raised this time, although one person at the back seemed to raise it, before changing his mind and keeping it lowered. Harry's then was the only one raised. Gandalf gestured to him with his staff. "Yes. Harry, is it not?"

"Yes sir," Harry responded, swallowing nervously. For some reason as was yet unknown to him, he desperately wanted to impress this teacher.

"Tell me, Mr. Potter, what are the basic principles to occlumency?" Gandalf asked, raising his head.

"Um, I believe it was something to do with, um, clearing your mind, and hiding your emotions," stammered Harry. He tried as best he could not to bring up too many memories from his private sessions with Snape.

"Correct, Harry," commended Gandalf. "Now, before I teach you the key to guarding your mind, I will teach you how notice a foreign mind. It is tiresome to guard your mind at all times, and foolish. Rather, it is wiser to learn _when_ to guard your mind." Gandalf moved to the back of the table, opening his book. "Now, open your copies of _The Subtleties of the Mind _to the page 256. There, you will find how to identify an alien mind. Now, the key to recognizing another's mind is to understand your own mind, so after we read this chapter, we shall do a…" Gandalf stopped. His gaze had fallen on a blond, bored seeming boy at the back corner of the room. There something dark lay upon him, a spell which Gandalf was not yet familiar with. He sighed. "You, child, at the very back corner." The boy looked up, suddenly, as if woken from deep thought. "Tell me, what house are you in?"

"Slytherin, Professor," the boy answered. There was an air of defiance, and boredom.

"Well, then, I am afraid I shall have to remove ten points from the House of Slytherin, for refusing to pay attention." At this, there was an uproar from the rest of the Slytherin students, many of them pointing out that it was unfair. This did nothing to change Gandalf's mind, indeed only making him mad. He was silent for a moment, hoping they would be silent, then he tried to quell the outrage peacefully, but when they persisted, he drew himself up, and seemed to grow in stature. "Enough!" he roared, and it seemed as though the light of the candles was extinguished, and all fell silent. The room grew chill, and it creaked as though from a great gale, but there was no wind. "I have not spent my time studying the magic of this world to become a teacher, only to be ignored by those I wish to help!" The light seeped slowly back into the room, and the roomed became still, and quiet. Warmth, however, was still far away. "Now, unless you wish for me to remove an additional hundred points from this ridiculous system of yours, you will pay attention and be silent!" He calmed down after that, and seemed to return to his natural stature, although the students were now all but certain he was far beyond natural, and the light and warmth seemed to return to the candles, and from the sun. Then he looked at the boy, now pale in fear, and felt a great deal of pity, and no small amount of regret.

"I am truly sorry," he said. "Perhaps I should not have done that. But I need you to pay attention. I really am trying to help you." The boy nodded and cast his eyes to his book. Gandalf sighed. Then he looked down, and began to read. The incident of the beginning of the class seemed to fade away, and soon all became invested in what Gandalf was saying. There had been many questions: why were we meditating, why did we need to know our own mind, what does this have to do with DADA. They were brought up shakily at first, by Ron, of all people. But when Gandalf answered each question cheerfully and most satisfyingly, they became more and more, for which Gandalf was very glad.

Soon, the end of class came. Ten minutes before it finished, however, Gandalf told the students to ask any question they may wish to, about any matter that came to their mind. It was, to the surprise of some, a frightfully blond-haired girl by the name of Luna Lovegood, who was the first to raise a question, one which did not surprise Gandalf in the least.

"What do you mean this worlds magic?" she asked innocently. "Do you come from another world?" Her question sparked giggling and sighs from the students.

"An excellent question, young Luna," remarked Gandalf. "And certainly not one to laugh about." Gandalf's voice was like a whip, silencing everyone at once. "Yes, young Luna. I most certainly am from another world, one that I imagine you would enjoy immensely. It's called Middle-Earth, or Arda." Gandalf's eyes looked up, and they seemed to be gazing at a far-off place. His voice was soft, and those at the back heard it with some difficulty. "It is, in many aspects, very similar to this one. It has mountains, and forests, and hills, and people, and a great threat looms over it. But it is also very, very different. Many of the creatures there you would not have heard of here, and many here I had not heard of until very recently. It is, if I might say so myself, far more beautiful." There was a wistful smile.

"Are there any Nargles?" she asked.

"Nargles? Small invisible winged thieves? No, I dare say there aren't."

"Oh," said Luna, sounding disappointed. It was then that Harry raised his hand.

"Sir, how can you be from another world?" he asked, skeptically. Gandalf frowned slightly.

"I do not know, unfortunately," he answered. "That is, I do not know how I came to this one. Although I am certain of two things: firstly, that I was sent here, and secondly, I am to aid the Magical World."

"But, how do you know you didn't just come here by accident?" asked Ron, confusion etched on to his brow.

"An excellent question, one that I pondered over myself for a number of days." Gandalf could see were this conversation might lead and debated which direction he should lead it. "You see, there are many different worlds out there, many different universes, all bound by walls, set up before time was born. None may pass through them, unless one of impossible power permits it." The direction of this conversation was now all but inevitable, Gandalf knew.

"But, how do you know all this?" This was Hermione. Gandalf smiled.

"That is a question you will have to ask at the end of the next lesson." It was at that very moment that the bell rang. "Fair well, my young students. Until our next class, or we meet in the library, or the Forest." And with that, he grabbed his hat, and turned to leave. But Hermione was determined to get answers from him.

"Wait, no!" she cried. "You can't just leave us like that. You have to tell us more!"

Unfortunately for her, Gandalf had a determination matched by few. Gandalf looked at her, his face a mystery. "And I most certainly will, miss Granger." He smiled. "In the next class." And with that, he donned his hat and left, leaving behind a very perplexed class.

Harry, Ron and Hermione walk down the hall, discussing their new teacher and the strange class they just had.

* * *

"I take back what I had said," said Ron. "The guys a nutter. Other worlds? And did you see his hat?" He scoffed.

"I dunno, Ron. He seemed like he was telling the truth." Harry racked his brains, trying to remember something, although he wasn't sure what. "Anyway, I don't think I'd want to argue with anyone who can shut up Malfoy the same way he did. Did you feel it? It felt like all the heat in the room just... left. Whatever he did, I'd like to learn it." He and Ron chuckled. "Do you know, I swear I've heard the name Gandalf before," said Harry. "I just can't remember where."

"I have to admit, I'm sure I've heard it somewhere as well," commented Hermione, a bit hesitantly though. "The only thing is that, although it sounds like a wizard's name, I've never heard any wizard called anything _like_ Gandalf before. I suppose it would make sense though, if he came from another world."

"Oh, come on, Mione," snorted Ron. "You don't actually believe that old nutter, do you? The guys clearly off his rocker."

"I—"

"Interesting," said a terrifyingly familiar voice behind them. They all turned around to see their new professor standing right behind them, a twinkle in his eye, though whether or not it was a dangerous one, they couldn't say. "I have been given many names, in ages gone by. Olórin, in the very far western parts of my world. Incánus to the south, and Tharkûn to the Dwarves. And I am also known as Mithrandir to the Eldar. And I have many _derogatory_ names by my foes in the dark lands. But _nutter_" he put special emphasise on the name, "is an especially new one."

By this point, Ron had turned white as a sheet, and his mouth was opening and closing like a fish, unable to even croak out a word. Hermione too was going pale, though not as pale as Ron, and was trying to think up an excuse. Harry, however, appeared mostly unafraid. However, none of them spoke for a few seconds. In the end, Ron managed to speak up first.

"Uh, um, s-sorry, P-Professor," he managed to stutter. "I didn't m-mean to—"

"Oh, I rather think you did, Mr Weasley," said Gandalf, not betraying whatever emotion lay beneath him. "Tell, what is the punishment for disrespect towards your elders, and more importantly, your professors?"

"I don't know, sir," cringed Ron.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, turning to face Harry. "And what about you, Mr Potter? Do you happen to know?"

"No, sir." Harry shook his head, lying only slightly, as the punishment was often whatever the professor wanted. He wasn't going to let this new teacher intimidate him, no matter what spells he may know, and how much he wished to impress him.

"Hmm." Gandalf turned to Hermione, and asked, "and what of you, Ms Granger." He looked hard at her, and his eyes seemed to bore into her.

"U-usual just whatever the professor decides," said Hermione. She lowered her gaze, abashed.

"Indeed," said Gandalf, a smile creeping over his face. He stepped back to face all of them. "Very well then. Tomorrow, instead of lunch, you three will join me at the lake. I will explain what is to come then." And with that, he was off.

Ron, shaking still, turned to Hermione. "Hermione, what've you done?"

"Me?" she cried. "You're the one who insulted him, calling him a nutter!"

"You basically told him he can do anything to us now!"

"Which I wouldn't have to do if you didn't insult him!"

"You didn't have to tell him in the first place!" cried Ron in turn.

"You want me to lie to a professor?" asked Hermione, aghast.

This went on for some time, and Harry tuned it out, wondering exactly what the punishment for them would be.

* * *

Gandalf hurried to the library, his mind racing. He had things to research. Things that could not wait. He knew of the recent history of Hogwarts, and decided that investigations were in order.

As he walked, his mind turned to the punishment of the three children. He chuckled to himself. That should keep them worrying for quite a while. As for what his punishment would be, he would set aside a moment to find something useful for them.

Upon reaching the library, he headed straight towards the sections regarding summoning enchantments and curses. He pored over books in the Dark Magic section, looking for such a curse for many hours. Once he had emptied and refilled an entire shelf of books that were in the unrestricted area, he decided on changing subjects. As it were, there was far too much information to be helpful. It may very well be he had read the spell that was used, although that was unlikely, but because there was so much similar information, he had no idea what it was. He had little doubt that the answer lay in the restricted area, but he had another thing he wished to research, and it grew late. So, he turned to another matter.

Slamming a book back into place, he sat back down and sighed, frustrated at his, for him, unusual lack of information. He pulled out his pipe from his staff, and smoked for a while, calming his nerves. There was still a year to go, he reasoned, and he would certainly find something before the year was over. But for now, he needed to find something that would prove a suitable punishment.

He rose again, and decided to delve into lore, which was ever a helpful subject. He had a theory, which, if proved correct, would make his punishment against the trio would be useful for them, but also difficult enough for them to hate it, at first at least. And so, for the better part of the night, Gandalf studied. He bumped into Hermione, at one point, who tried to convince him not to give them detention. She mentioned that she completely disagreed with Ron, and that she can't have a detention this early in the year, and some other things that Gandalf missed. In the end, Gandalf said no, and sent her back to her dormitory, threating her with taking points away, and even graver punishment if she did not.

At last, he found something he thought would be most useful. He went straight back to his room, content that the knowledge would be troublesome enough for the three students, and yet useful enough for them to appreciate it. Especially considering their struggle against this Voldemort foe of theirs. With that thought, he slept.

* * *

The sun rose again, and Gandalf woke up, and prepared for the morning. He looked at the time, and determined that it was time to head to breakfast. He made his way there, casting a spell of his own to freeze the stairs in place for a couple hours, to the delight of the students. When he sat down to eat, a rather fat, old looking man with a silver moustache approached him. There was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed his ambition.

"Ah, Professor Gandalf," he said. Gandalf recognised him now, as the new professor Slughorn. Once again, Gandalf reflected on how bizarre many of these names were. They seemed to be oftentimes that they were no more than the combination of different words, which one would never have thought to give to a child.

"Yes, hello," greeted Gandalf in turn. "You must be Professor Horace Slughorn."

"Yes, yes," said the Professor, grinning. "We haven't really had a chance to meet, I'm afraid. I imagine you've been just as busy as I have, if not more so. But now that I have a chance to meet you, I'd like to invite you to a little club of mine, if you have the time."

Gandalf pondered this for a moment. On the one hand, he wanted to do as much research as he can. On the other, perhaps this would be a good way to meet more people, and perhaps make some allies. He certainly would need some. At last he agreed.

"Splendid, splendid," cheered Slughorn. "We're having a meal on Saturday, at eight o'clock. There'll be dinner, and some supper."

"Very well," said Gandalf, nodding. "I shall be there, at eight o'clock."

"How wonderful!" cried Slughorn, and then was off to have breakfast.

Severus, who had witnessed the final few sentences of the ordeal, turned to Gandalf. "Gandalf, are you certain you want to join him for his club?"

"Ah, Severus," said Gandalf cheerfully. "I'm glad to see you again. And I suppose so. I still know very little of this world and its people, and going to a meal such as this may be beneficial."

"Hmm, perhaps," muttered Snape. "I warn you though, I had him as a teacher for many years. He likes to think of himself as some sort of a collector of people. He likes to think himself as the one who works behind the scenes, as it were. He's a pompous fool."

Gandalf chuckled. "Well, he certainly seems pompous, though only a little foolish. He will prove very foolish, of course, if he tries to collect me." He started to eat, spreading butter and some spread on his bread. "Which classes do you have, Severus?"

"I have the year 6 Slytherin and Gryffindors, immediately after breakfast." He spoke the word Gryffindor with such venom. Gandalf was curious.

"Tell me, why do you dislike the Gryffindors so? They seem like noble house."

Severus scoffed, folding his arms. "Noble? Please. The moment they set foot on that train, they get told that it's the best house, and when they get sorted into it, get delusions of grandeur. They think that because of this they do not need to work hard in any study other than Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Indeed?" asked Gandalf. A smile crept onto his face. "And it would most certainly have to do with the rivalry your house shares with them?"

Snape turned his head sharply to retort, then closed it again. Gandalf let the power of Narya wash over Snape, compelling him to tell the truth. "Possibly," he conceded, reluctantly.

Gandalf smiled warmly. "I see. But I also see you hold a deeper grudge against the house. One far more personal." This certainly struck a chord, as Snape turned his head away, to focus on his breakfast. Gandalf leaned forward, earnestly. "You can tell me, Severus." This proved too much.

"With all due respect, Professor," said Snape, icily, "I have a class to prepare for." With that, he got up and left. Gandalf sighed, disappointed.

He finished his food, and looked around for Dumbledore, only to not see him anywhere. He sighed, and left. As he walked down to the library, he was stopped by a tug on his robe. He turned around, but saw nothing. But when he looked down, he saw an ugly little creature. It had large eyes, massively oversized pointed ears, and little more than a pillowcase on it to serve as clothes. It was holding what looked like a folded-up scarf.

"Oh, um, hello," said a startled and confused Gandalf. "Who might you be?"

"Dobby, sir," said the creature. "Dobby has been asked to bring this to you." He, for at least it sounded like a he, lifted up the scarf.

Gandalf took it, and had a look at the scarf. He could detect no magic of any malicious sort. It seemed it was enchanted only to hold together.

_These wizards and their dependency on magic,_ thought Gandalf, once again. _I would be amazed if they could survive without it._ Then he turned his attention to Dobby. "Thank you, master Dobby." He bowed.

"Master!" cried Dobby, quite amazed, if a bit alarmed, smiling brightly. "Dobby's never been called Master before. Professor is too kind."

"Am I?" asked Gandalf, slightly amused. Too kind was something he had never been called, or rarely at the least. "Then we have something in common. I have never been called too kind. Well, better too kind than not at all, I suppose. But if I may ask, master Dobby, what manner of being are you?"

"Professor doesn't know?" asked Dobby, thoroughly confused.

"No, I'm afraid not. I have not had much time to learn about all the beings here, and I am very new to this world."

"Oh," said Dobby, and continued proudly, "Well, Dobby is a free house elf."

"You!" exclaimed Gandalf, his eyebrows shooting up. "You are an elf?" This was the most confusing and alarming thing Gandalf had ever heard of. He thought back to his conversation with Severus, yesterday. Now he understood what he meant. He looked at Dobby, and realised that was rude in any circumstance. "My apologies, master Dobby. I meant no offence. I was merely surprised. Where I am from, elves are very much different. But what, if I may ask, and it is not too rude, do you mean free?"

"Apology accepted. Professor is the kindest wizard Dobby has ever met, along with Harry Potter. Dobby has never been apologised to. And to answer professors' question, house elves are servants. There are many house elves in Hogwarts, and we clean the rooms for the professors. Most house elves like their position, but if their master treats them badly enough, they will dislike it. House elves must do whatever the master demands of them. If their master gives them clothes, they are free. Dobby was once enslaved to the Malfoys, but Harry Potter saved him."

Gandalf stood silently while he processed this new information. A thought occurred to him. "Tell me, please, how did the house elves come to be? Do you know?"

Dobby shook his head. "Dobby does not know much history. Dobby has never had the chance to read anything other than instructions."

"Hmm. No matter. I shall research that myself then, I suppose. You have been most helpful, master Dobby. Thank you, and thank you for the scarf."

Dobby smiled even brighter. "Professor is most welcome." With that, the two parted, and Gandalf left with more things on his mind than before. When Gandalf turned to his room, instead of the library, he was pleased to see his spell on the stairs was holding.

He reached his room, and removed his scarf, placing on the table, and put on his new scarf. It was long, and on one end was green and white, which faded into yellow and black, and then finally into red and yellow. Gandalf tried it on. It stuck out, the bright colours against the grey. He decided only to wear it on occasion. He replaced the new scarf with his old one, leaving it on his desk.

Gandalf checked his schedule. He had only one class, which was after lunchtime. The seventh graders, it read. He put his schedule down, before noticing he had a message on his desk. He looked at it, and saw it was from Dumbledore. It read:

_Dear professor Gandalf,_

_As you may have noticed, I did not attend the breakfast. This is because I am currently not in Hogwarts. Therefore, I cannot ask you this in person. It came to mind recently, today, in fact, that you possess knowledge about magic that far surpasses that of any wizard or witch, even though it is from another world. So, I must ask if you would be willing to share some of what you can. Even a small defensive or offensive spell, particularly to the year 5 through to 7 students, would be wonderful. Of course, if you do not wish to, or find you cannot, that is perfectly acceptable. _

_Regards, Albus Dumbledore._

Gandalf frowned. It was curious, that Dumbledore would ask this of him. But then he remembered the oncoming war with this Voldemort creature. Dumbledore wanted his students to be, at the least, protected against Voldemort and his servants with something they were unaware of. And of course, it would be much better if he could teach them spells that their enemy could not quite so easily defend against. And it would be nice to teach something a bit more familiar. It was a good idea.

But there was still the issue of whether or not it would work. The magic of this world was so much different to what passed as magic back in Arda. Even in the Elder days, when Elves and Ainur walked the lands together, magic was in no way similar to this worlds magic. Of course, if the peoples of this world could not use magic the same way he did, then it would not be too much of an issue. If they could, however, then the tide of the oncoming battles would most certainly shift in their favour, if only slightly.

But sometimes, slightly was just enough.

* * *

Gandalf headed down to the forest, once again deciding to forgo the library. He went down to the Game Master and Magical Beings teachers little hut. Upon reaching it, he knocked on the door with his staff. The door opened reluctantly. He saw the half giants face drop, slightly, before rising again.

"Gandalf," cheered Hagrid. He pulled Gandalf into a hug.

"Hagrid, my friend," said Gandalf, breathless. At last he was let go. "You had a class, didn't you?"

"Aye, earlier today," said Hagrid. There was a noticeable, if slight, change in the teacher's expression.

"What's wrong?" asked Gandalf. Hagrid waved his worries aside.

"Wha? Nah, nothing," said Hagrid. "Come in, ah'll put on the kettle for you. What house you in?"

Gandalf followed him inside, frowning. He was very fond of Hagrid, for his love of nature of all sorts, and the birds and the beasts, and his simple, kindly nature. He reminded him of Radagast the Brown. And he was first to help him, when needed.

"Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin," began Gandalf, sitting at the table as Hagrid put the kettle above the fire. Hagrid was shocked at the mention of three houses, but Gandalf stopped him from asking about it, say, "Listen to me Hagrid. I am very old, and have seen many people, and been many peoples friend and ally, and have stopped even more conflicts from forming than I care to count. I _know_ when something is amiss." He leaned forward, as Hagrid turned slowly to him. "You have helped me before, my friend, in perhaps my greatest time of need. Let me help you, however I can."

Hagrid sat down, not meeting Gandalf's eyes. "It's nothing much. Just a few kids not in my class, 's all."

"Ahh," said Gandalf, his eyes lighting up as it all became clear. "You miss the three children, Harry, Ron, and Hermione."

"Yeah, 'spose so," sniffed Hagrid. He sighed, and Gandalf put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.

"Have you spoken to them yet?" asked Gandalf, prompting Hagrid to look up at him. Hagrid shook his head. "Then you must speak to them. It would not do for friends to be silent to one another. Just as two kingdoms must communicate, so must friends. And believe when I say not Harry, nor Ron, nor Hermione seem like people to spurn friendship."

"I dunno," mumbled Hagrid. "I'm a half-giant, after all, an—"

"Rubeus Hagrid!" shouted Gandalf, sitting up straight. The wind outside howled, causing the cottage to shake. Hagrid sat upright in an instant. Gandalf's voiced boomed like thunder. "Do not think so lowly of your friends. They have been your friends for years now, and they are still your friends, and will be your friends for much longer. If you will not go and talk to them, I will bring them to you and force you to myself!"

Hagrid looked terribly frightened, but relaxed as the wind stopped and cottage stilled. Gandalf relaxed his posture. "I have taught them yesterday, Hagrid, and I have heard the stories. They are a most loyal group. They would not scorn your friendship."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt," mumbled Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid," said Gandalf. "Come now, perhaps you could introduce me to a strange and dangerous creature. Perhaps a flying one."

Hagrid smiled, and wiped his eyes. "Sure thing, Gandalf. You 'ave a preference?"

"Well," said Gandalf, sitting back in thought, "I have read somewhere that there are beings in the Forest that are half man and half horse, though I cannot rightly remember the name."

"Ah, that'd be the centaurs," said Hagrid. "Don't know if they'll be up for meeting you. They don't do very well with humans at the best of times, and recently their relationship's been rather bad with the Ministry."

"Indeed?" said Gandalf. "Well, perhaps some other time, then. Are there any creatures in the lake?"

"Oh, plenty," said Hagrid, cheering up significantly. He stood up and went to the door, after turning of the stove. "C'mon, I'll show you. There's a giant squid, the Merpeople…"

Gandalf and Hagrid strolled down to the lake. Hagrid named the many denizens of the lake, and listed off their nature and magical properties. He grew much cheerier, barely taking a breath, clearly glad to have something to be distracted by, and to talk to someone who was actually interested in what he was saying. At last they came to the lake, where a great tentacle arose to greet them. Gandalf's eyebrows raised slightly. It appeared that he had underestimated Hagrid when he said the squid was giant.

The two stood there for a time, till Hagrid said he was off to feed his boarhound, Fang, then head off for lunch. Gandalf bid him farewell, and sat on a nearby stump. He pulled out his pipe, and smoked, awaiting his detentionees. He smiled. He would have them attempt the magic of Middle Earth first, and if that fails, he would then move on to the other tasks he had thought up for them.

It was a little over ten minutes when they arrived at the lake, where Gandalf was blowing smoke rings, and making them all sorts of different shapes and colours. He had sent a rather large ring, which was changing colours every so often, over the lake, where the squid was sending bursts of water through it occasionally, and there was a ship next to it. It was three minutes past the point where lunch began. Gandalf turned and rose to greet them.

"Ah, Harry, Hermione, and Ron," he said, keeping his voice mysterious, a skill he had become quite adept at over the millennia. "Three points each from Gryffindor for your lateness."

"What?" exclaimed Ron. "But we can't be more than five minutes late!"

"Three, rather," said Gandalf. "A wizard or a witch should _never_ be late. Nor should they ever be early. They should arrive _precisely_ when they mean to." He turned and strode down to the lake. He turned when they didn't follow along and shouted, "Well? Don't just stand there like a trio of statues! Come along now!"

They followed him down the hill, wondering what tasks they would be forced to do.

Gandalf put down his staff, and heft a large rock from the riverbed. He quickly evaporated the water. When the trio reached him, he ordered Hermione to turn the stone into a bowl, and for Ron and Harry to fill it up with water. They did this without complaint, for they were simple enough tasks.

"Now, put away your wands," ordered Gandalf. Curious, they obliged, stuffing them in their cloaks. "Now, what you must do is freeze the water. But you will not do it with your regular magic." Gandalf chuckled at the confused and surprised expressions. He held up his hand to quiet the questions from Ron, and the explanation that they couldn't do wandless magic yet. "You are quite right. You have not. But that is not what you will learn. You did not listen. You will not use the magic you know already. You wish for proof I am from another world? You shall have it. Pay attention."

Gandalf turned to the bowl of water. He spoke loudly and clearly. "Lasto enni nen. No heleg." The water in the bowl froze in front of their eyes.

The three children were silent for a second. Then Harry spoke up.

"Um, Professor Gandalf?" he asked tentatively. "This is certainly different, but we can do the same with a wand."

"Indeed, you can," said Gandalf. "But Dumbledore has asked you learn this, so learn it you will. But I suppose you would do well with a better display of this particular magic." Gandalf moved away from the lake. Gandalf smiled inwardly. This was one of the few times he could show a bit of his true strength, if only for a moment. He was no longer in Middle Earth. The rules he was once bound by were no longer forced upon him, though he would still adhere to them, as best he could, and he was of course still bound within a physical body, which did limit him. However, he was no longer in his home of old, a land of swords and spears and of shields. Here, he could use magic more, even if it is just the magic of this world for the most part. It was this thought that went through his mind when he raised staff and his empty hand. He spoke, and his voice was like thunder. "Lasto enni, o gwilwist! Leitha cîn ross! No hin lummor!"

In an instant, great storm clouds appeared in the sky, blocking out the sun, and a great wind arose. There were bright flashes of lightning, and thunder rolled and boomed. Rain began to pour down upon the students and the professor in sheets. Gandalf waited a few seconds, lowering his hands, looking at the shocked appearances of the students. Then he raised his hands again.

"O gwilwist, lasto enni! Daur! No eno!"

At once, the weather calmed. The rain ceased and the lightning and thunder faded away. The sun shone through the clouds. The darkness disappeared, and the light was almost blinding.

Gandalf turned his head to the three students. They stared at him; their mouths agape, and they were shivering. An understanding seemed to come to them: this Gandalf fellow knew what he was doing, and he was most certainly from another world.

Gandalf strode down to the three students, who were still in a state of shock. No witch or wizard had ever managed to control the weather! If they could learn this sort of power, then Voldemort would have a very slim chance.

"Now," said Gandalf upon reaching them, "pay attention. We shall first go through the differences of your magic, and what is considered magic in my world. Your magic comes from within, it is your ability reach within yourself, and affect the outside world. This is a raw, powerful ability. If left unchecked, untrained, it would be disastrous. Thus, Hogwarts. Now, in Arda, or Middle Earth, the ability to cast a spell is determined by your will. The stronger your will, the greater the effect of the spell. The ultimate strength of your will determines on much, which we will speak of another time. Now, most beings require some way to channel their will, if they wish to cast a spell, and use different languages to command, in a sense…"

And so, for the better part of the lunch, Gandalf taught them. It was more a language lesson than any other, for Gandalf had them learn some Sindarin and Quenyan words, along with teaching them how to freeze the water, which they all had great difficulty doing. By the end, Ron and Harry were excited, although a little disappointed that it was little more than merely a language lesson. Hermione, of course, was ecstatic, and they would discuss the possibilities of this newfound magic in the common room often. They were all very hungry, save for Gandalf. He escorted them to the Great Hall, where they each had something to eat. They spoke little of their lesson with Gandalf to the others, on his request, before they went to class again, ignoring the taunts and insults thrown at them, eager and somewhat distracted, for Gandalf had assured them that they would be taught more on this later on, most likely later in the year, and he wished to keep it secret, though he would not tell them why. And although they, through sad memories of years gone by, and the knowledge of the evil to come, were anxious and weary, their hearts were kindled, as if by a flame, and their vigour was renewed. They felt that, despite the dangers and terrors that were to come, despite Voldemort, despite his followers, despite Snape, and perhaps in spite of them, they would survive, and that they would indeed overcome it. And they felt a hope that they had not felt in many a term, and looked to the year with longing unlike ever before, not even in their first days at Hogwarts. Ron even swore to work hard on his homework, much to Hermione's delight. And so, even as they went to their next class, and Harry was forced to use a substitute book, they smiled, inwardly and out, and it did not falter.

* * *

**Hello all. Sorry it is so terribly late. And so long. I hope it is good. Do enjoy. Comments and advice are all most welcome. As for the translations of the Elvish words, they are in Sindarin. I found them here: **


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**Hello all. Thank you for your reviews. They are most helpful. **

**ChunkyFunkyMunky: I understand, and I'll make sure not to have him reveal all of himself, especially to the students. But in my mind, I think Gandalf would spend some time with the students in each House regaling them with tales of Middle Earth. Also, Gandalf is usually more of a "tell everyone all the details so that they know and understand what's happening as much as they can". This, I think, will be a nice foil to Dumbledore, who is more of a "tell only certain people certain parts of certain truths, so that they play the game how I want them to, thus ensuring our victory, with as few losses as can be had". I like both sides and characters, and think they each have merit.**

**WOLOLOLOLOLOLO: I imagine so too.**

**winterwolf23543: I do agree that the paragraphs might be a bit long in some places. I'll try to fix that.**

**Diamond of soul: Thank you.**

**Thranduil's wife: Thank you. I will definitely finish it.**

**Lemuel: While you're correct, I don't know when I mean to.**

**Bluzerker: Thank you. You don't know quite how much that means to me.**

* * *

It was still rather dark when Gandalf rose, early as ever, the foreign sun barely peeping over the forest.

"Lumos maxima," he said, pointing his wand at a part of the roof, illuminating the room. It was still a little strange to Gandalf, being able to simply say a word and cast a spell. It was almost comically simple. Of course, what was called magic here, and what was considered magic by Hobbits and Man in Arda, was different in many ways, and he was still getting accustomed to it.

He checked his schedule, seeing he had a class at the middle and end of the day. This was convenient, as he had only a little more research to do, and looked forward to teaching some more. A frown formed at the thought of research, and he recalled events from last night. He had avoided running into any students yesterday who might have had questions to ask, and had instead met a rather insightful creature, and gained very useful, though terribly disturbing information.

* * *

He had hurried to the library last night, determined, still seeking answers. A spell existed that allowed two people to exist in some manner in the same spot, that much he knew. The time he spent giving Harry, Ron and Hermione detention had all but confirmed that. What that spell was remained the only question, one he was having a rather ridiculous amount of time answering! It seemed, however, that no such spell existed! He asked the librarian if she knew, but she told him that she knew of no book that contained such knowledge, and she knew every page of every book, a line he'd heard too many times. Disappointed, and more than a little sceptical, Gandalf returned to his personal studies, learning many things in the process, except what he wished to learn.

Hours passed, the night waxed, and Gandalf the Grey had cleared an entire shelf. He slammed the last book shut, and wearily set about returning the books, forgoing the use of a wand. He sighed as he placed the last one in its spot, and returned to his table. Nothing. He _knew_ he had to be patient. His own extensive history had taught him that he would undoubtedly find the answers, even if it would take time. But the worlds history, his own at least, also told him that a creature such as Voldemort would be on the move, and there was little doubt in his mind, having heard what Hagrid told him, that this spell on Harry was in some way connected to Voldemort, and to the spell that was cast when his parents were slain. There was no doubt that Harry was in grave danger. And in Gandalf's mind, there were few greater crimes than harming children. Voldemort has been pressing against Hogwarts for the past few years now, and Gandalf felt he needed to prepare for his next arrival swiftly.

Gandalf sighed, lowering his head into his hands. But it was at that moment a thought occurred to him. It was a desperate thought, but he would rather do it now than later. He rose, and hurried out of the maze of books. He made his way to a statue of a gargoyle.

"Lemon drops," he whispered. The statue moved aside, and Gandalf went up a flight of stairs, and went into a large office, filled with books. Gandalf eyed them, curious. He swiftly made his way up another flight of stairs, and moved over to the window, and, leaning his staff on the wall, looked out the window, grasping on to the windowsill. He sighed. Then, closing his eyes, he cast out his mind, searching for the mind of Dumbledore. It took him only a few minutes before he did.

He enveloped the mind, not entering it yet, but pressing at the walls of it, gently. The mind opened up, confused, and Gandalf entered.

"_Gandalf?"_ came the confused mind-voice of Dumbledore.

"_Dumbledore, yes, it is me,"_ thought Gandalf quickly. _"Please, I only need a moment of your time. I need to ask a question, perhaps two."_

"_Very well, what is it?"_ Dumbledore's voice seemed strained, and though Gandalf did not pry into his mind, there was an undercurrent of concern, and he could guess Dumbledore was under some sort of pressure. However, if he was permitting questions, then Gandalf would ask.

"_I must ask, do you know of any spell which can cause a person to be in the same place as another?"_

There was silence, before Dumbledore answered, _"I can't tell you right now, Gandalf. But when I return, which should be soon, I'll explain it all to you. Now please, I am very busy, and in a bit of a troublesome spot. Nothing I can't handle, don't worry, but it does require my focus."_

"_Of course. Very well," _answered Gandalf, and left his mind. He opened his eyes. He sighed, not fully content with how things had gone, but glad that he was finally getting somewhere. He took his staff, but paused, before deciding to pull a seat to the window, and smoke a bit, while thinking.

* * *

A half hour passed, while Gandalf stared at the foreign, starry sky, pondering what he would teach the next day. If he were correct, he would be teaching a class of fifth years and a class of seventh years. As he stood up to leave, a large red bird flew up to him, perching itself on the windowsill. A phoenix, Gandalf realised.

"Ah, hello," he greeted the phoenix. "I remember reading about you. You have a most interesting cycle, my friend. Dying in a burst of fire, only to be reborn. Most unusual. You don't happen to know what it is I search, do you?" There came a trill. Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "Well then, by all means, tell." Another squawk, but this was in defiance. "Why not?" The phoenix squawked again. Gandalf sighed. "Could you tell me something?" The bird trilled twice more, and Gandalf's eyes widened in shock. "Are you certain?" The phoenix nodded. "Thank you, my friend. You have been most helpful. Can I ask your name?" The phoenix answered. "Thank you, Fawkes. You have been most helpful." With that, Gandalf returned the chair to its position, took a lemon drop, and returned to his chambers, his face grim, and his mind worried. Now, he knew what else to search for.

* * *

Gandalf closed his book, sending a plume of dust into the air. He waved it aside, and leant on his elbows, deep in thought. This book, which he recovered from the Restricted Area of the library, had given him the answers to one of his questions, one he had put off. The phoenix spoke truthfully. It explained the darkness he felt around the child Draco. It was simple, all things considered – a tattoo that burnt once activated – but dark nonetheless. Now, all he needed was proof.

_But proof can wait,_ Gandalf thought, as proof would be a more difficult thing to find. _Now, for breakfast._

Gandalf waved his wand, and returned the book to its original place, attempting to get used to doing things in such a simple manner. He then made his way to the still somewhat empty Great Hall, ignoring the curious looks he got from many of the tables. The Slytherin table was looking at him in a particularly foul way; many looked at him with hatred in their eyes, but fear was in their hearts. He frowned at that. He would have to remedy that. He did not wish for the students to fear him. Tonight, perhaps.

Sitting down, he muttered a meal. He looked towards Dumbledore's seat, finding it empty once more. He wondered where he may be. There might be some sort of a chance that it had to do with whatever it was that Gandalf was investigating, because of how he had acted when Gandalf had asked. However, he would have to wait for Dumbledore's return to Hogwarts before he could know for certain.

The matter of what Fawkes had told him was another matter entirely. A child, joining the forces of evil. He would have very stern words with his parents when he gets the opportunity, and Dumbledore, if Dumbledore knows.

As he was thinking and eating, a diminutive professor came over to him.

"Excuse me, Professor Gandalf," he said, calling Gandalf out of his deep thought.

"Hm, yes?" said Gandalf, turning his to look at him.

"I'm professor Flitwick. I teach Charms," he said as way of introduction. "And I was just wondering, because I've heard all sorts of strange and bizarre things in my time here at Hogwarts, but, umm, may I ask why some of the children are going around saying you're from another world?"

"Are they now? Hm," Gandalf muttered quietly, before speaking to the diminutive professor. "Word spreads very quickly. Tell me, is that all they speak of? Or is there more? And do you know which grades?"

"Oh, well, there is more," said the minute professor, "far more uncouth words, particularly from the Slytherin house. I have had to deduct a great number of points. But also, from Gryffindor, though there's no surprise there. And, uh, I think it's mostly the sixth years and seventh years, but there may also have been some of the lower years." Gandalf chuckled slightly.

"Is that so? Most interesting," answered Gandalf. "Well, the children speak well, if they say that I am from another world. If they say otherwise, that is to be expected. I have given little evidence for them. Fear not, you shall know before the end. I shall tell you, just not now. Perhaps when Dumbledore returns."

Professor Flitwick left, more confused than before. At that moment, Professor Snape arrived, looking as dour as ever. He sat beside Gandalf.

"Ah, good morning," said Gandalf, cheerful. Severus did not answer him. Gandalf frowned, and guessed the cause. He sighed. "I take it you are unhappy because I removed a few points from your house yesterday."

Severus did not answer, but his lips thinned. Gandalf sighed inwardly.

"Severus, I hope you understand I do not want to punish the students," Gandalf explained, leaning towards Snape. "And perhaps my display of anger was a bit much. But the child Draco was not paying attention, and the rest of the house was not much help."

Snape's lips thinned slightly more at the mention of Draco. "I shall have a talk with him, then," he said at last. Gandalf guessed this was a slightly more common problem than he thought.

"Thank you," Gandalf answered. "And, if you want to know, and it helps in any way, I have found out that I am in the House of Slytherin." That gave Severus pause. He turned to Gandalf.

"Really?" he asked, stretching the word out.

"Indeed," answered Gandalf, nodding. "I have the scarf to prove it. Have you a class to attend?"

"Not until the third period," said Severus, shaking his head.

"Well, then perhaps I could invite you to join me in my room, and we can smoke and chat," said Gandalf. "Sometimes you need to rest from your duties. I have a most wonderful view of the Forest."

Severus frowned. A break from work would be nice, and the plots of Dumbledore and Voldemort. And yet…

"Perhaps some other time, Gandalf," he declined, honestly. "I still have some work I need to prepare."

Gandalf frowned. "Very well then, if you insist," he said. He then realized he not drunk anything yet, so conjured up some coffee.

Severus ate and left soon afterwards, leaving Gandalf to his thoughts, and finished his food. They were soon interrupted by Minerva, who seemed decidedly confused.

"Professor Gandalf," she began, a strangely worried edge to her voice, faint though it may be, "can you tell exactly _why_ the students have been whispering all morning and last night about you, telling ridiculous tales of you being from another world?"

Gandalf sighed. This was becoming a most irritating habit. When Dumbledore returns, and he had explained to him the answer to his mystery, he must bid him call a council of all the teachers.

"Professor McGonagall, when Dumbledore returns from his errands, I shall bid him call a council, and then I shall explain to all the teachers the truth. Until then, pray keep your concerns to yourself."

Minerva was not so easily deterred, though. "Professor Gandalf, this is one of the greatest schools of magic in the wizarding world. The students you are teaching have gone through numerous tragedies in these past few years, and I do not want another distraction, and I especially do not wish for any more tragedy. With that in mind, I insist you tell me what the students mean at once," she demanded.

Gandalf sighed, weary. He understood perfectly why she was mistrustful. But if he were going to explain his nature to the teachers, it would be best to provide evidence of his claims when Dumbledore returns and calls a meeting. "Very well. I hope you understand that it would be best to explain everything to all the teachers once Dumbledore returns, but if you wish. Yes, I _am _indeed from another world, and I have somehow been sent hither for reasons that are only recently becoming a little clearer to me."

"And what exactly are these reasons?"

"It would seem," said Gandalf, his words measured, "that I here to help you in your struggle with Voldemort. How exactly I am to help you, I cannot yet say, but I promise you, I am not here to bring these students to harm."

McGonagall was silent then, but content. She nodded once, and returned to her seat. Gandalf finished his coffee, and left for the DADA classroom, wanting to make sure everything was in place.

He stopped by his room, and levitated the necessary books, and swiftly made his way to the DADA room. Hurrying slightly, he arrived at his classroom, and spent a few minutes making certain every table had a book.

Once he completed his task, he decided to visit the Forbidden Forest. He thought perhaps to meet with the Centaurs, and to learn their language. There was a Centaur in Hogwarts who served as a teacher. He had seen him about a few times, but had never talked to him.

But there were other things that weighed on his mind, chief of which were the giant spiders. Now that he had in part what he wished to know, and would learn soon all he wished to know, he could turn his mind to lesser matters, with giant spiders in the forest no doubt capable of great terrors in Voldemort's favour, especially given their proximity to Hogwarts.

But, of course, it would not do to simply dash in and threaten or kill every spider bigger than a garden tarantula. He reminded himself that he was a stranger to this world, and he knew yet still very little. Better to read on it first.

So, putting off going to the forest entirely, he visited again the great lake. He was greatly intrigued by the giant squid, and it seemed friendly enough. It seemed a creature the Vala Ulmo would've loved. Reaching edge of the lake, he smiled, and sat down. He pulled out his pipe, and started smoking for a while, puffing out rings of varying colours, all coming together to create a massive ring over the lake. He started a conversation with a swallow.

He was explaining ideas of some final touches to the exercises he had planned, when he heard Hagrid come up behind him. Eager to speak with the half-giant, he turned to greet him, leaving the swallow to fly off.

"Ah, Hagrid, my dear friend," he said in greeting. "How do you fair?"

"Hey Gandalf," greeted the games-keeper and teacher. "Ahm doin' good, thanks." There was a slight edge to his voice that indicated he wasn't being entirely honest, Gandalf noted.

"Good, good," Gandalf murmured. "Come, please, sit. I'm afraid I left my other pipe in my room. So, have you done what I told you to do?" Gandalf looked at him from the corner of his eye, seeing a slight change in his friend's expression.

"Nah, not yet," he said. "Ah'll do it over the weekend, 'onest," he added quickly, as Gandalf turned his head sharply. Gandalf muttered to himself quietly, turning back to face the lake.

Gandalf inhaled some smoke, then with a complex series of motions, blew out a small bird, which fluttered away, over the lake.

"Well, what brings you here, my friend?" asked the old wizard.

"I've got a class next period, and I thought I'd spend some time 'ere with ya. Figured you might be 'ere."

"Indeed? Well then, by all means, let us talk," said Gandalf. "I have yet to learn of many of the creatures here. I have heard that there are giant spiders nearby. What can you tell me about them?"

Hagrid turned and looked at him oddly. He obliged, nonetheless. "Well, Acromantula ah mostly 'armless, unless ya go trespassin'." He went on for a little while, talking about a little accident a few years back when Harry and Ron had gone to see them in order to investigate a mysterious case of petrification's. As he listened, concern grew in Gandalf. Massive spiders, regardless of their origin, could be used to devastating effect by Voldemort, especially given their nature and, once again, their proximity. Whoever thought it was a good idea to have a school right next to a forest full of deadly creatures, in any case?

"D'you have giant spiders in, ah, Middle-Earth?" asked Hagrid at the end of his tale.

"Yes, but of a far more vicious kind," said Gandalf. "They are offspring of an ancient evil, known as Ungoliant. They infest the woods of Greenwood, and the Elves there fight ever to keep them at bay. They have done well, so far."

But Hagrid turned at the mention of Elves.

"Elves? You've got Elves there?" he asked.

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, but quite unlike the ones here."

"What're they like, then?" asked Hagrid, his curiosity peaked.

Gandalf smiled. "They are an ancient people. They are immortal, firstborn, and most gifted of all the Children of Ilúvatar. Fairest they are, also, and the fairest amongst them are those that lived first in the Blessed Land, and saw the light of the Two Trees." There was a wistful tinge to his voice, and as he gazed at the lake, it seemed as though he was staring at some far-off place. He spoke of Rivendell, and of Lothlorien and Greenwood. Hagrid understood very little of what Gandalf said, and promised to ask him on a later date.

Gandalf was coming near to the end of his tale when the bell rung, interrupting him.

Hagrid leapt up, shocked. "Blimey, I've lost track of time." He bid Gandalf farewell, and rushed to the Forest. Gandalf smiled, and bid him farewell.

Gandalf spent the rest of the period smoking, and talking to the local birds. They had a fair deal to tell him, and told him much about the spiders, which troubled him deeply. It seemed that, unbeknownst to Dumbledore, and even Hagrid, a person had appeared in the darkest parts of the Forbidden Forest. They appeared many times, and talked with the leader of the giant spiders, a foul creature named Aragog. According to the birds, Aragog was growing frail, and would likely die before the end of the year. The birds seemed particularly cheerful at that thought, and Gandalf shared their sentiment.

When the birds ran out of things to talk about, they stayed with him for a little while longer, then flew off. At their leaving, Gandalf decided it would be best for him to head off too. Snack time had nearly passed.

He headed towards his class, passing McGonagall on the way, and decided that, once he got an opportunity, to ask for her tutelage on the specific branch of magic that she taught. The confrontation with McGonagall and Flitwick reminded him that there were other forms of magic that he would be glad to learn. Transfiguration in particular seemed appealing, and he would be most likely familiar with rune work. Divination, however, seemed to be a particularly confusing and troublesome subject, if the groans and complaints he had heard from a not insignificant number of students were anything to go by.

As he made his way through the castle halls, he was given many strange looks by the houses. He paid them little heed, continuing on his way to the library. As he did, he many of the students, most particularly the older ones, complain about many things, particularly regarding some sort of "owl" and "newt" test. This must be one of their upcoming tests with ridiculous names. Gandalf sent forth the power of Narya, giving the students courage, and it seemed to all the students that a sudden flame grew in their hearts, and their worries left for a time, or lessened at least. This did nothing about the odd looks Gandalf received. That was something he would endeavour to change, sooner rather than later.

_Yes, I think most certainly tonight,_ mused Gandalf.

But as Gandalf reached the doors of the classroom, he was stopped.

"Professor Gandalf," a familiar voice called out to him. He turned around to see Luna walking towards him. She wore strange glasses of preposterous size.

"Yes, dear Luna," said Gandalf. "How might I help you?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Could you tell me a story sometime? Of your world?"

Gandalf frowned, thoughtful.

"I most certainly could, yes," he said. "Tell me, when are the common rooms most full, particularly after all the classes have ended, and dinner has been had?"

Luna thought about this for a moment. "Well, for the Ravenclaw house, at about eight p.m." she said, nodding her head. "That's when everyone's resting, or studying."

"Thank you, Luna," Gandalf said. "If you can be patient for until tomorrow night, or at most, the night afterwards, you will have your story."

Luna beamed. "Okay," she said, cheerfully as ever. She turned and left for her class.

Gandalf entered the room the moment the bell rang. There were a few students there, and they sat upright, quite suddenly. He noticed, rather amused, that they looked at him nervously.

"Ahh, good morning," he said. "Two points to each of your houses for not being late." The students began to smile, but Gandalf spoke again. "But a point removed for being early. A wizard or witch should never be late, but they should never be early, either. Instead, they should arrive precisely when they mean to."

A hand raised, tentatively. Gandalf motioned to him.

"Um, I meant to arrive early," he said.

"Well, then, I return your point to you," said Gandalf. "But in future, unless you have pressing business that requires you arrive early, you should aim to arrive when the bell rings."

It was at that moment that the rest of the students hurried in. They saw that they were later than the teacher. And they saw that they were later than the _new_ teacher, which was made more concerning, considering the stories they had heard about him.

"Two points from each of your houses for tardiness," said Gandalf, as soon as they all sat down, eliciting multiple outbursts. They died down very quickly.

"Now then, a good day to you all," he said, cheery. "As I suspect you know already, I am your new professor, for the year at least. I will not permit any questions regarding any stories you have heard until the end of the class, at which point you may ask any story you wish. I understand you have all had strange, confusing, and in some instances, terrifying experiences with your teachers, so I quite understand your concerns. The tales you would have heard will not have helped much. However, I ask you save your questions till the end.

"Now, I am to teach you the basics of Defence against the Dark Arts, and some theory. For the first semester, we shall cover the basic principles and theory of occlumency and legilemency. As we near the end of each term, you shall have opportunities to try and enter your partners mind, and to resist their attempts.

"I warn you, though, _not_ to attempt legilemency without my permission. To invade another's mind is the highest grounds of intrusion, and if I find that any of you have done so, you will find yourself in detention for the better part of the year, and the loss of hundreds of points. If you continue, you will be expelled." Gandalf's eyes had grown dark, and his voice stern. "This will be the first and last warning I give you. Do you understand?"

The children in the class nodded silently. The silence lingered for a moment, as Gandalf looked over each student. Then his eyes lightened, and the silence passed.

"Excellent," he cheered. "Now, I would like you to open your book to page 65."

* * *

The class went well, and by the end the students had come to realise that Professor Gandalf was eager to answer their questions. And although the work they were doing was purely theoretical, Gandalf proved to be an interactive and excited teacher. He was knowledgeable, like Professor Snape, but much less strict and cruel. He had an air of Professor Moody about him, like he knew what he taught, unlike a certain Professor Lockhart, but he did not seem threatening. Or stupid and arrogant. Like Lockhart.

And of course, he answered questions and interacted with the students; he taught them, and went to lengths to ensure they understood what they were being taught, and overall _cared_ for the students, quite unlike Umbridge, whom everyone had agreed never counted as a professor, and was a tyrant at best.

He was, they felt, quite similar to Professor Lupin, in that he was the best teacher they've had. The only worthwhile teacher they had, save Moody, though he was secretly a Death Eater, and not very nice.

At the end, they asked Gandalf if he was from another world, and when he said yes, they proceeded to ask him about this world of his. He spoke eagerly, telling them about the Eldar; he spoke of Rivendell and of Lothlorien, and told them of Greenwood. When the bell rang, he promised to tell them more of Middle-Earth the next time they have a class, and that they will do more practical classes every now and then.

His class finished, he went to the library, though he stopped by the Great Hall for a sandwich. Gandalf spent lunch reading up on transfiguration, it's basics and theory, though he did not try any spells yet. It was an interesting topic, one he knew Saruman would greatly enjoy, for it dealt with shaping objects to one's desire. From animals to cups, and cups to animals, to entire buildings, if one was skilled and knowledgeable enough. Radagast would enjoy it also, he suspected. Aulë and Yavanna would likely have found it to be an amusing branch of magic, albeit certainly useful at times, and perhaps quicker.

He shuddered at the thought of Sauron using it. If the Enemy had such skills and powers, he would likely have been victorious in that final battle.

Gandalf put the book back on the shelf, and left a few minutes before the bell rang to go to his class. The year seven students, if he was correct. He had prepared some rather advanced classes, by the standards of Hogwarts.

Upon reaching the rather large room, he went to the desk and pulled out a book. It was the same one as the other classes. He would make certain that all his students were proficient enough in occlumency, as it was called, to resist at least each other. He would teach them also how to use legilemency, though he would make certain they knew not to use it over much, and outside of classroom.

A moment later, and the class filed in. The bell rang a second later. They sat down, whispering to each other. Most were, of course, trying to discreetly discuss their new professor, who they had heard the strange rumours of, and were wondering what he was going to say. They were not very discreet.

He smiled as they sat down, a dull murmur still audible. "Welcome, to your first class this year in Defence Against the Dark Arts," he greeted them, his voice booming, echoing on the stone walls. "I understand that to reach this particular level is an accomplishment few can match, one that has been made more difficult by your overall incompetent and downright detrimental teachers, and you require as few distractions from your work as possible." By now, the class had quieted down. "So, I will tell you now that in regard to the rumours, yes, it is true I am from another world. If you want proof, look only to the storm yesterday. That was my doing, and served as proof to some other students. I will answer any questions you have at the _end_ of the class. For now, I shall talk to you about occlumency and legilemency."

There was a silence, and the students looked to each other, all wondering who was going to speak up first. They had all witnessed or heard of the storm yesterday. It covered the lake and a part of the forest, and it came without warning and left just as quickly. It was a yellowish-haired girl near the front row who brought up the obvious question.

"But, sir… that's impossible," she said, uneasily, as Gandalf raised a book. "No witch or wizard can control the weather."

Gandalf frowned. "Quite correct, but you would be better off saying no witch or wizard of this world. For as I have said, I am not of this world."

"But… that would mean that there are other worlds," continued the girl, furrowing her brow. "And do you mean another planet, or another universe entirely? Because they would lead to different questions, depending on which one you mean. And-"

Gandalf chuckled. "You are a most intriguing child. Which house are you in?"

"Uh, Ravenclaw, professor," she answered, somewhat off balance at the change in topic, and Gandalf's sudden mirth.

"Well then, twenty points to Ravenclaw, for asking the right questions," he said, his laughter quieting down. "You will find, in my classes, that asking the right question may sometimes be more important than the answer.

"And the answer to your question, dear child, is the latter. I am from another universe. I had thought, originally, I was simply very, very far ahead in my own universe, but that line of thought has since been disproved."

"But how—"

"Not now, I beg of you," interrupted Gandalf. "Please. We only have so much time today, and I need to get you started on what I have planned."

The student in question closed her mouth, with apparent difficulty. And without further ado, but certainly with many confused looks, Gandalf started his class.

* * *

The class went rather well, all things considered. Gandalf explained to the class precisely what they will do this semester, and the consequences should he find them using their powers without his permission and guidance. They soon asked questions readily, once they learned he was willing, and eager, to answer any and all questions they had. As the end of class neared, Gandalf allowed the students to ask him any question they wished, regarding any subject matter they wanted. Of course, the main subject matter ended up being his claim of being from another universe.

"But how do you _know_ that other universes exist?" asked a particular exasperated Ravenclaw student.

"Because I asked," answered Gandalf. "And though my memory is not quite what it once was, I still remember that. And because this world is nothing at all like my own." They had had this discussion for the better part of ten minutes, and Gandalf, although amused and glad that he was able to have a discussion like this – amused because of the students utter exasperation, and glad because he valued curiosity in children –, was beginning to hope the bell would go soon. There was little he could do to prove his claims, especially considering the time restraints, and he did not particularly wish to disclose his nature.

"Who did you ask?"

Gandalf smiled fondly, and as if on cue, the bell went. "I'm afraid that is something you will have to ask another time, my dear student." He grabbed his hat and staff, and left for the door, putting his hat on, and opening the door, disappearing around the corner.

And very nearly bumping into Dumbledore, who grabbed onto his arm, pulling him the other way.

**Hello everyone, and thank you for being so patient. I'm sorry I took so long. The fact of the matter is I have little in the way of time management, and I suffer from a not quite fatal, but still irritating, dose of perfectionism, and constant writers block. **

**I'm terribly sorry if the ending feels sort of rushed. I've been trying to finish this for a while now.**

**As always, comments, questions, and constructive criticism is welcome. **


End file.
